—Poems by Marilyn Wallner, Carmichael, CA
—Anonymous Photos
REFLECTIONS ON OLD AGE
I no longer consult mirrors.
They have nothing new
to tell me.
Oh, there’s no avoiding them
when say, brushing teeth or
hair, obsequious intruders
on my field of vision.
Orthodox Jews cover them when
there is a death in the family.
Vanitas vanitatum.
To do this for the death of one’s youth
would not be kosher.
I note the young
checking themselves
in any reflecting surface
like store or car windows.
I want to shout
“If you’re not sure
you are here, why
don’t you just ask me?”
REFLECTIONS ON OLD AGE II
I have joined the ranks
of old women
who move among you
food stains
on jackets
glasses occluded
with dust motes
manufacturers’ labels
at attention on
neck’s nape
telling the world
“I live alone.”
EARLY MORNING WALK
This is how I like it best.
Just my little dog
and I owning the neighborhood.
Nobody out but us.
I can concentrate on
what there is here:
the season’s colors,
bird gossip, airplane’s drone
Union Pacific’s distant salute,
agonizing sound of old redwood shakes
yielding to the workmen on Yates’ roof.
They are going with wood again.
Tomorrow this stretch
will smell like freshly sharpened pencils.
CURATING THE SUN
Once a neighbor’s rooster
brought it up
even adjusting
for daylight saving.
But they moved
taking their egg factory
with them.
So it fell to Tom
who Romeoed out
our east window
“But, soft! What light
through yonder window breaks?
It is the east and Juliet is the sun.”
It never failed.
Now he’s gone so
I stand in for clamoring cock
and poetizer,
mute, offering
neither gift nor incantation
still it rises
in spite of me.
THE POETRY WORKSHOP
Nothing good can come from this:
six heads, mine among them,
parallel with blank paper
fingers strangling pencils
trying to squeeze metaphors, similes,
words, anything out of them.
The professor tilts back in his chair
behind the desk, eyes half-lidded,
and the faint smile of someone
who has committed poetry
and gotten away with it.
Nothing good can come from this
save something wonderful.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
A workshop is a way of renting an audience, and making sure you're communicating what you think you're communicating. It's so easy as a young writer to think you're been very clear when in fact you haven't.
—Octavia E. Butler
___________________
Many thanks to new SnakePal Marilyn Wallner for her poems today! Marilyn writes: “I am a 90-year-old poet in Carmichael, eternally vigilant to keep technology at bay, writing my poems using a pre-WWII manual typewriter. I entertain a troupe of wild turkeys in my backyard who graciously reciprocate with feathers for my garden hat. My wish? That when I am speaking, my companion will give me the gift of their listening, and when we are walking, will walk at my pace.” Welcome to the Kitchen, Marilyn, and don’t be a stranger!
Marilyn Wallner and Pal
Speaking of workshops, MarieWriters meets tonight at Sac. Poetry Center, 6pm, facilitated this week by Cristin O’Cuddehy. 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.
—Medusa
(Celebrate poetry—and the noble art of the pun!)
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