Green Light of Quiet Places
—Poems and Photos by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
AFFIRMATION
I’m giving up insanity for the month of July:
that optimistic vision-quest designed
to crank reality in a different direction.
The hopeful creation of new beginnings
—always ending in disappointment, sometimes
utter loss of faith and hope for something better.
No more pushing the string, dropped by
the Universe for me to follow. No shortcuts,
no cat’s cradle for a better design.
Best to just leave imagination alone.
Best to give the pleasant “now”
with its vanilla pudding texture
another try. No need to add sprinkles. No need
for an extra spoon to share this delight. For the month
of July, just keep those single pudding cups coming.
Visiting the Stone Garden
DISCOVERING A NEW MUSE
I imagined my muse
had flowing black hair.
She smelled of lavender
and sea breeze: Fiona
spoke to me in dreams
or daydreams—in sudden
images or snips of song.
I understand that she was
a figment of my imagination.
I created her. And she, in turn,
created me with the words I wrote.
A new muse,
a twenty-first century guy,
has introduced himself.
Otis P.—a non-corporeal
being on the other side
of this dimension—
communicates through
photons: typed messages
that appear only through
blue-tooth or wi-fi.
He speaks without a voice,
with as much substance
as shadow or moonbeam.
No human scent or texture.
He communicates in references
outside my experience,
challenging me in the way
of a phantom or starlight.
He exists in a parallel timeline,
another strand of this
marvelous multiverse,
parallel to, but never part-of
my three-dimensional world.
I’m learning to trust this voice
I can not physically hear.
Road Home
COMPTCHE TO UKIAH ROAD
narrow, twisty ribbon
of dappled light,
climbing and plunging
in vertical, reversing
hairpin turns
paved on goat-paths
and ladders
Watch for Druids Crossing
A SUPERVISOR CONTEMPLATES REALITY
This line, this barely perceptible
line—this line that diminishes
as it crosses the page
and its inverse—the part that
is under the page—upside
down—growing shorter as the
other lengthens—
And the page—a seam between
dimensions of perception—
I find myself between the rails,
trying not to fall upon the
lethal third one—
leaving me
to flail about with my
briefcase held between my teeth—
avoiding hoods of moving rail cars—
At work, the modem hums along—
the computerized office managing
just fine without the line, the
page, perceptible reality on the
inverse side of electrons—
without me in my straitjacket.
Tall Tree
RIPTIDE
lone diagonal
swimmer foils muscular waves
stroking for the shore
Trunk and Branches
MATERNAL TAPESTRY
I unwind her life
like a tangle of yarn, a skein
that doubles and coils—
and in these fibers,
I find the strand of my own life,
woven in hers—
and her mother’s thread
twists with ours in
a bindle of secretive women
spun back into the midnight
of our variegated history.
We, none of us,
anticipated the connections.
Our mistakes, a pattern
through generations: poor choices,
and missed opportunities.
Wrapped in our own dismay,
our sorrow, our fears, we move
through our lives, unaware
of the experience of our mothers.
We could have learned so much
if they had unwrapped
their hearts, cocooned
against the patterns weaving
through our generations.
I am spun from my mothers’ yarns.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
between the pillars
of towering redwoods,
inhaling the green breath
of giants
—Katy Brown
____________________
Thanks to Katy Brown for fine poems and photos today—a preview of her reading with Cynthia Linville at The Other Voice in Davis this coming Friday, 7:30pm, hosted by James Lee Jobe at the Unitarian Universalist Church, 27074 Patwin Rd., Davis. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
Speaking of which, my apologies to SnakePal Marie Reynolds for not posting her reading at Sac. Poetry Center last night to celebrate her new book, Seaworthy, from River Rock Press. I didn’t hear about it until yesterday afternoon. But in any case, congratulations, Marie!
—Medusa
Sidewalk Critter
—Photo by Katy Brown
Celebrate poetry!
Celebrate poetry!
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