Pages

Friday, May 21, 2021

Trespassing

 
—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA



WOBBLY LEGS

He hates exercise for repetition’s sake
but he minds the PT when she assigns him
ankle pumps, or wobbly steps with his walker.
He minds the nurses no older than his grand-
daughter, even when they treat him like a child
and measure his oxygen saturation—
whatever that is—in this facility
so far below altitude. He wants to die
with his boots on, mind and stride strong enough for
whatever mountain stands at his horizon. 
 
 
 

 
 
I LIVE HERE A TRESPASSER

With mechanical scythe I come
to cut the native green. It’s here for free:
poison oak, stickweed entwined
with knee-high grasses, weaving lace over—
what’s that? glass bottle brown with history
and soil. Someone was here before me.
I cut my engine to consider, and toss
the bottle aside,
let silence move with the murmur
and sway of oak boughs asking
what brings me here. 
 
 
 

 
 
WHAT A GARDEN GROWS

With pickax and field shears
I’m clearing the garden edge. All this
giving green—a nameless plant has grown
chest-high while I was busy somewhere else.
Tough stalks yield to pickax—and there,
between bottom row and fence,
a turkey nest
well hidden before my intrusion.
A dozen eggs wreathed around unlucky
#13 (broken egg—I didn’t break it!).
Quick, conceal the nest as it was. Get out
of here, get busy somewhere else.
Hope the garden grows some turklets. 
 
 
 

 
 
BALANCE IN DESIGN
After “Deer Design #2” by Meyo Marrufo

If
a wee
speckled
fawn’s legs are
wobbly, the buck of
broadly pointed rack stands
guard while a conifer holds earth
together with unseen roots—boughs
shingling down to shed bad weather.
Buck keeps watch over Fawn growing
out of its spots, its legs stronger
with each
new breath. 
 
 
 

 
 
ACORN SPOON
utilitarian art by Jeremy Peconom

Where are native grinding rocks?
Here’s an acorn spoon:
elk antler, scrimshaw, pine pitch—
earth-goods under moon,
work of useful art.
A lovely
spoon!  

 
 

 
 
ANOTHER VIEW OF ACORN SPOON

I’ve never eaten acorns,
never had the skill
or patience: grinding, leaching….
Turkeys have gizzards,
deer digest their fill.
They don’t need
spoons!
 
 
 

 
 
TWINING SNAKE LILY

Woodland
flowers on long
wobbly stems, they coil them-
selves up dying grasses—purple-
pink snakes.

__________________

Today’s LittleNip:

DO THE MATH
—Taylor Graham

The skyline is sub-
divided—house times house row on
row multiplying.

____________________

Thanks to Taylor Graham for taking enough time out from her weed-eating to send us another batch of treasures! (Our current Seed of the Week, by the way, is Hunting Treasure…) Taylor has sent some of her poetry in forms: Normative Syllabics (“Wobbly Legs”, our most recent Seed of the Week); Haiku or Senryu? (“Do the Math”); Ekphrastic (“Balance in Design” & “Acorn Spoon”, both from Birds of a Feather exhibition at Arts & Culture El Dorado's Confidence Firehouse Gallery); Epulaeryu, last Friday’s Fiddler’s Challenge (“Acorn Spoon” & “Another View of Acorn Spoon”) and a Cinquain (“Twining Snake Lily”).


Tonight (5/21) at 6:30pm, Sac. Poetry Center presents MONDAY Journal Digital Book release party online at us04web.zoom.us/. 2021 release/reading of a “legendary underground literary publication founded in 1999 in the back of Covered Wagon Saloon, San Francisco.” Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/482214513220223/?ref=newsfeed/.

This Sunday (5/23), 10am-12pm: Taylor Graham and Katy Brown will lead an exploration of farmhouse, barn, and surroundings for Capturing Wakamatsu: A Poetry Walk/Workshop, then ask participants to write a poem inspired by what they’ve experienced. Anyone who wishes to may share poems with the group. Children 8+ welcome with adult supervision. Suggested Donation: $5/members, $10/non-members. Bring your camera and notebook! Questions/info/reg: contact julie@ARConservancy.org/.

And now it’s time for …


FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!  
 
It’s time for more contributions from Form Fiddlers, in addition to those sent to us by Taylor Graham! Each Friday for awhile, there will be poems posted here from some of our readers using forms—either ones which were mentioned on Medusa during the previous week, or whatever else floats through the Kitchen and the perpetually stoned mind of Medusa. If these instructions are vague, it's because they're meant to be. Just fiddle around with some forms and get them posted in the Kitchen, by golly! (See Medusa’s Form Finder at the end of this post for links to definitions of the forms used this week.)

Today, Carol Louise Moon of Placerville, CA has sent us four lithe and lovely Lunes:



after spring showers
red barn shines
meadow's old trophy
         
            nimble, purposeful
            her hands dance
            the old typewriter

black fly twitches on
white teacup—
bold, uninvited

             inquisitive bull
             in corral
             snorts boredom my way
 
 
 

 
From Carl Schwartz (Caschwa), a You-pula-ru (Epulaeryu), our Fiddler's Challenge from last week:


GRILLED TO PERFECTION
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

pair of rib eyes, thick is best
red tone, freshness counts
season with rub on both sides
use low flame and grill
eight minutes each side
serve proudly
eat! 
 
 

 
About this next poem, Carl says, “This is a Found poem from the Seniors section of my high school yearbook.”


OLYMPIAN ‘67
—Caschwa

after two years
waiting in the wings
the seniors have finally reached
the center ring

dress days,
off campus privileges
ditch day

along with a great deal
of responsibility
for the future
finalizing plans
making decisions
about where to go after

college, job, military?
questions grow
increasingly important
spend much time
trying to find
the right answer

walk the tightrope of life
keep our balance true
to foundation of
knowledge and
acquired skills

on one hand we have
the needed
intellectual background
to achieve career goals

on the other we have
the extra-curricular activities
spirited backing, and
camaraderie of classmates
to make us
complete
balanced
personalities 
 
 
 

 
 
And finally, Carl’s rhyming response to Medusa, who said she was in the Class of ’63. This is also a response to the current Seed of the Week: Hunting Treasure:


CLASS OF ‘63
—Caschwa

oh, you poor dear!
in less than half a year
hope was turned to fear

a nation left grieving
stunned, hurt, and weaving
innocence was leaving

the comfy, grassy knolls
half-truths taken for wholes
a reordering of our roles

plans for future gains
that depended much on brains
ended by sniper’s disdains

funny notes in the yearbook
treasures now forsook,
“bullet-proof” is the new look

__________________

Many thanks to our SnakePals for their brave fiddling! Would you like to be a SnakePal? All you have to do is send poetry—forms or not—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!

__________________

FIDDLERS’ CHALLENGE!   
 
 
—Medusa

 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of 
Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA, who says,
"Check out the punky-do!"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 




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.