Suck-er!
—Poetry by Kevin Jones, Joseph Nolan,
Caschwa (Carl Schwartz), and Michael H. Brownstein
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
LAST TIME I FELT THE STING OF A METAL RULER
—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove, CA
It was a set-up
Of course. Billy Queen
Asked Sister
The word for feeling
Ants crawling on you.
"Formication!"
I volunteered.
—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove, CA
It was a set-up
Of course. Billy Queen
Asked Sister
The word for feeling
Ants crawling on you.
"Formication!"
I volunteered.
MORNING’S HAZY SUNSHINE AT THE CAMP
—Joseph Nolan
Sunshine falls on our garden
From mid-Spring until early-Fall,
While I clamor
For carnations’ offerings
Of beauty
For us all.
Through slumber goes
The breath of hounds,
In muggy, summer days.
Still, I recall
The beauty of morning:
Early, over coffee,
With your eyes
Still covered,
Softly, through some haze,
And your breasts,
Drooping lightly
From your evening gown,
Over table,
Over coffee,
As morning sunshine
Did surround
Our early conversation,
Slowly toward
Our daytimes, bound.
—Joseph Nolan
Sunshine falls on our garden
From mid-Spring until early-Fall,
While I clamor
For carnations’ offerings
Of beauty
For us all.
Through slumber goes
The breath of hounds,
In muggy, summer days.
Still, I recall
The beauty of morning:
Early, over coffee,
With your eyes
Still covered,
Softly, through some haze,
And your breasts,
Drooping lightly
From your evening gown,
Over table,
Over coffee,
As morning sunshine
Did surround
Our early conversation,
Slowly toward
Our daytimes, bound.
DREAMS AND WARM BREAD
—Joseph Nolan
Dreams disappear in sweet smiles,
Like brilliant, cloudy sunsets.
We watch.
We learn.
We yearn!
Tomorrow,
Another morning
For new dreams to begin,
Drawn between our
Needs and whims,
Lofting down
On our red
Tablecloth,
With all
The trimmings.
The water-pot
Is whistling,
Telling us
It’s ready to
Make coffee.
I’ll pour your cream,
And after
Warming up our bread,
We’ll head back to bed.
—Joseph Nolan
Dreams disappear in sweet smiles,
Like brilliant, cloudy sunsets.
We watch.
We learn.
We yearn!
Tomorrow,
Another morning
For new dreams to begin,
Drawn between our
Needs and whims,
Lofting down
On our red
Tablecloth,
With all
The trimmings.
The water-pot
Is whistling,
Telling us
It’s ready to
Make coffee.
I’ll pour your cream,
And after
Warming up our bread,
We’ll head back to bed.
LIFE AS A BEAST OF BURDEN
—Joseph Nolan
A’morning,
A horse
Considers his day,
Steadies himself,
Matches himself
To the weight of his daily burdens,
Each stop along the way
A little time to rest
For the rest of the route,
Pulling carriage or sled,
Or with weight on back
Piled up to the top of his head,
Shouldered and tied,
One street at a time—
His life as a beast of burden.
—Joseph Nolan
A’morning,
A horse
Considers his day,
Steadies himself,
Matches himself
To the weight of his daily burdens,
Each stop along the way
A little time to rest
For the rest of the route,
Pulling carriage or sled,
Or with weight on back
Piled up to the top of his head,
Shouldered and tied,
One street at a time—
His life as a beast of burden.
KVETCHING AMONGST THE “DISTAFF” GENDER
—Joseph Nolan
I, for one, as a poet,
Am on a crusade
Against kvetching.
There is so much of
Kvetching in poetry,
I can’t stand to hear
Any more.
Kvetching in reams,
To spoil our dreams,
Like a thunderstorm
At a picnic.
Thundering, more and more,
Until the kvetching
Over-pours our table,
Onto the floors,
Up the walls and
Across the ceilings,
Revealing how women
Are feeling,
Angry, frustrated and sad,
Imposed-upon and mad,
For being the “distaff” gender.
WEARY AND WARY
—Joseph Nolan
Weariness
Has its own wariness,
And wariness
Its own weariness,
From promised, more
Bearing less,
Eventfully, regrettably—
Disappointment.
How to learn
To trust again,
Not gullibly,
Re-assuredly,
To the extent
Of reason and
Capacity,
In light of the above?
—Joseph Nolan
Weariness
Has its own wariness,
And wariness
Its own weariness,
From promised, more
Bearing less,
Eventfully, regrettably—
Disappointment.
How to learn
To trust again,
Not gullibly,
Re-assuredly,
To the extent
Of reason and
Capacity,
In light of the above?
WITHOUT ANTS
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
we’d lose our pants
swallow our rants
be denied constants
have no participants
stumble over variants
use coulds but not can’ts
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
we’d lose our pants
swallow our rants
be denied constants
have no participants
stumble over variants
use coulds but not can’ts
AMERICAN CANNONBALL
—Caschwa
(after reading about the
“Headless Horseman”)
One of our political parties has
displayed its unique ability to throw
its explosive head and regenerate
a new one continuously
they were once a fine and firm
block of cheese, but now mold
has predominated and the nation
has grown tired of picking around
it to find worthy morsels
all MAGA hat, no cattle, no justice,
no civil rights, no equal rights, no
bills allowed to pass the Senate,
no longer the global leader in
freedom, liberty, and democracy
home, home on the range
where the deer and antelope
still have heads intact
—Caschwa
(after reading about the
“Headless Horseman”)
One of our political parties has
displayed its unique ability to throw
its explosive head and regenerate
a new one continuously
they were once a fine and firm
block of cheese, but now mold
has predominated and the nation
has grown tired of picking around
it to find worthy morsels
all MAGA hat, no cattle, no justice,
no civil rights, no equal rights, no
bills allowed to pass the Senate,
no longer the global leader in
freedom, liberty, and democracy
home, home on the range
where the deer and antelope
still have heads intact
Speaking of bad days….
IT WAS A BAD DAY FOR HIM
—Caschwa
the poet wrote some poetic verse
which struggled and fell flat on its face
it was meant to answer an awful curse
that was entirely out of place
the thinker turned to thoughtful prose
writing plausible explanations,
it was all guesswork, I suppose
devoid of factual revelations
both the poem and the prose were
then joined and intertwined,
hidden away where no lights occur
baffled confusion ruled the mind
do we faithfully follow the commandment
that bans murder by any means,
or put our money behind the amendment
that entitles us to killing machines?
—Caschwa
the poet wrote some poetic verse
which struggled and fell flat on its face
it was meant to answer an awful curse
that was entirely out of place
the thinker turned to thoughtful prose
writing plausible explanations,
it was all guesswork, I suppose
devoid of factual revelations
both the poem and the prose were
then joined and intertwined,
hidden away where no lights occur
baffled confusion ruled the mind
do we faithfully follow the commandment
that bans murder by any means,
or put our money behind the amendment
that entitles us to killing machines?
KEEP THAT FLAG
—Caschwa
There’s a movement underway again
to make Washington, DC a State
giving our U.S. citizens there
better choices over their own fate
before you retire our current flag
you need to know about another
movement that was started long ago
Texas exits, given their druthers
—Caschwa
There’s a movement underway again
to make Washington, DC a State
giving our U.S. citizens there
better choices over their own fate
before you retire our current flag
you need to know about another
movement that was started long ago
Texas exits, given their druthers
AN OLD STORY
—Caschwa
there once was a boy made of wood
who lied every chance that he could
sent invites for his party
billed as most wild and hearty
he’ll be there, they all understood
they came waving flags and bear spray
letting nothing stand in their way
the police were outnumbered
the mob was unencumbered
the boy, of course, stayed home to play
this tale is as yet unfolding
just read the court’s latest holding
hard evidence always rules
o’er testimony of fools
guilty gets more than a scolding
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
the joy of the songbird—
a tingle and a sigh—
snow on the mountain pass
—Michael H. Brownstein, Jefferson City, MO
______________________
Here we are on the cusp of April, thanking today’s four poets for starting us off right this week, and Joseph Nolan for finding us lovely, laughable and often astonishing photos. The talk of ants has to do with our Seed of the Week, Ants.
—Caschwa
there once was a boy made of wood
who lied every chance that he could
sent invites for his party
billed as most wild and hearty
he’ll be there, they all understood
they came waving flags and bear spray
letting nothing stand in their way
the police were outnumbered
the mob was unencumbered
the boy, of course, stayed home to play
this tale is as yet unfolding
just read the court’s latest holding
hard evidence always rules
o’er testimony of fools
guilty gets more than a scolding
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
the joy of the songbird—
a tingle and a sigh—
snow on the mountain pass
—Michael H. Brownstein, Jefferson City, MO
______________________
Here we are on the cusp of April, thanking today’s four poets for starting us off right this week, and Joseph Nolan for finding us lovely, laughable and often astonishing photos. The talk of ants has to do with our Seed of the Week, Ants.
Speaking of April 1 (April Fool’s Day), Poetry in Davis will present Julia B. Levine and Joseph Millar Thursday night, 8-9pm online at ucdavisdss.zoom.us/my/andyojones/. Host: Andy Jones. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/270246291253699/?acontext={"source"%3A"29"%2C"ref_notif_type"%3A"plan_user_invited"%2C"action_history"%3A"null"}¬if_id=1616773020786826¬if_t=plan_user_invited&ref=notif/.
Tonight at 7:30pm, Sacramento Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse presents Mary Blendermann, Elder Gideon, and Doreen Procope online at us04web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Password: r3trnofsdv. Join at 7:15pm. Host: Emmanuel Sigauke. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/3831301003656712/.
This summer, Frank Dixon Graham will repeat his workshop, Summer of Love, a course on love poetry online, the first and third Wednesdays in June, July and August. The entire course is $99, though you may take any four classes for $69, or any one class for only $20. Simply contact Frank at FGraham@UCDavis.edu to enroll. The course is LIMITED in space, so sign up early! Facebook info: www.facebook.com/frankdixongraham/.
And tomorrow (3/30, 5:30pm), Pacific University MFA Mapmakers Alumni Institute and Catherine-Esther Cowie present “The Long Shout”, a panel discussion with Joshua Boettiger and guest poets Valzhyna Mort and Celia Sorhaindo about the shaping force of violence and trauma on an artist’s work. Free, but register at pacificu.zoom.us/. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/277663790484580?acontext={"event_action_history"%3A[{"mechanism"%3A"your_upcoming_events_unit"%2C"surface"%3A"bookmark"}]%2C"ref_notif_type"%3A"event_aggregate"%2C"source"%3A"29”}/.
______________________
—Medusa
Tonight at 7:30pm, Sacramento Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse presents Mary Blendermann, Elder Gideon, and Doreen Procope online at us04web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Password: r3trnofsdv. Join at 7:15pm. Host: Emmanuel Sigauke. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/3831301003656712/.
This summer, Frank Dixon Graham will repeat his workshop, Summer of Love, a course on love poetry online, the first and third Wednesdays in June, July and August. The entire course is $99, though you may take any four classes for $69, or any one class for only $20. Simply contact Frank at FGraham@UCDavis.edu to enroll. The course is LIMITED in space, so sign up early! Facebook info: www.facebook.com/frankdixongraham/.
And tomorrow (3/30, 5:30pm), Pacific University MFA Mapmakers Alumni Institute and Catherine-Esther Cowie present “The Long Shout”, a panel discussion with Joshua Boettiger and guest poets Valzhyna Mort and Celia Sorhaindo about the shaping force of violence and trauma on an artist’s work. Free, but register at pacificu.zoom.us/. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/277663790484580?acontext={"event_action_history"%3A[{"mechanism"%3A"your_upcoming_events_unit"%2C"surface"%3A"bookmark"}]%2C"ref_notif_type"%3A"event_aggregate"%2C"source"%3A"29”}/.
______________________
—Medusa
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
