—Poetry by Caschwa (Carl Schwartz), Stephen Kingsnorth,
Joe Nolan
—Photos by Carl Schwartz
THAT DANG TIME CHANGE
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
opening skies
opium eyes
even the gnus spread the news
we know better
it doesn’t get no better
active volcano
grand piano
mucho Bueno
World War III’s a crowd
enemies won’t make you proud
don’t just tease, say it aloud
you can’t appease a stormy cloud
encyclopedia
endless tedia
social media
full baboon
under crescent moon
will go crazy soon
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
opening skies
opium eyes
even the gnus spread the news
we know better
it doesn’t get no better
active volcano
grand piano
mucho Bueno
World War III’s a crowd
enemies won’t make you proud
don’t just tease, say it aloud
you can’t appease a stormy cloud
encyclopedia
endless tedia
social media
full baboon
under crescent moon
will go crazy soon
HE SAW OUR CARDS
—Caschwa
true to form, the Russian dictator
interfered and interposed in our
presidential election, setting the
stage for a drama queen to take
the highest office and show the
dictator all of our cards
leaving us to swat away incessant
moths they planted in the fabric of
our democracy to rudely undercut
the pillars of jurisprudence, slyly
seeking our silent acceptance of
the sound of pennies dropping in
our tin can in favor of all the good
faith and trust we have built up
over generations
now Ukraine sits as prey to Russian
vultures, whose appetite is not
limited to one country, or even one
continent, and they will push and
bomb and kill until total world
domination is theirs
yes, we have the codes, but they
have seen our cards…
OPENING SKIES
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
In cellar cell, a stairway door,
where bedroom set, a fanlight yawn,
top high-rise trapped, no company,
though mountain top, the glory view,
less torrent fall or thunder slap,
agoraphobic stuck outside.
It’s mixed, our take, provision made,
a blessing lost, or curse denied,
so when we gift a treat displayed
it may be horror when applied.
The ozone wrap, our safety flak
jacket against the solar winds,
not so welcome, opening skies;
so hearing phrase, our view reveals,
both standpoint clue and altitude,
as waiting moonshot, dungeon dread.
It is the ‘ing’ that rings a bell,
not ‘open’ skies, but ‘opening’,
as if the opportunities
are now, in present, offered up,
a gift unwrapped to learn of self.
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
In cellar cell, a stairway door,
where bedroom set, a fanlight yawn,
top high-rise trapped, no company,
though mountain top, the glory view,
less torrent fall or thunder slap,
agoraphobic stuck outside.
It’s mixed, our take, provision made,
a blessing lost, or curse denied,
so when we gift a treat displayed
it may be horror when applied.
The ozone wrap, our safety flak
jacket against the solar winds,
not so welcome, opening skies;
so hearing phrase, our view reveals,
both standpoint clue and altitude,
as waiting moonshot, dungeon dread.
It is the ‘ing’ that rings a bell,
not ‘open’ skies, but ‘opening’,
as if the opportunities
are now, in present, offered up,
a gift unwrapped to learn of self.
OUR MEANS OF DISTANT CONNECTION
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
We have crossed this bridge before,
This river, this desert.
The scenery, here, is familiar to us.
We have spent our best years, here.
We know the hues of every mirage-oasis
Our desperate thirst may conjure before us.
It is time for us
To rest here, once more,
Separated by the chasm between us,
Across which we stretch our hands—
Our means of distant connection.
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
We have crossed this bridge before,
This river, this desert.
The scenery, here, is familiar to us.
We have spent our best years, here.
We know the hues of every mirage-oasis
Our desperate thirst may conjure before us.
It is time for us
To rest here, once more,
Separated by the chasm between us,
Across which we stretch our hands—
Our means of distant connection.
BRANDED BILLBOARDS FOR
SLAVE-LABOR MASTERS, LIKE NIKE
—Joe Nolan
Wearing brands,
Across the land,
Walking billboard-signs
For all to see,
Naturally,
Commercially,
Don’t you get the message?
Nothing is free,
Including we—
We who wear the brands
Of slave-labor masters,
Like Nike.
SLAVE-LABOR MASTERS, LIKE NIKE
—Joe Nolan
Wearing brands,
Across the land,
Walking billboard-signs
For all to see,
Naturally,
Commercially,
Don’t you get the message?
Nothing is free,
Including we—
We who wear the brands
Of slave-labor masters,
Like Nike.
GO WE NOW TO WAR
—Joe Nolan
They have become an enemy,
Called on us to destroy them.
Descend we now,
As ghosts borne down by gravity,
Shadows summoned downward,
To deliver prayed-for slaughter.
Go we now to war.
ACQUIESCENCE INTO FATE
—Joe Nolan
Acquiescence
Unto acquiescence,
Until capitulation,
As the glaciers
Of Greenland
Slip into the sea.
Obituaries
Accumulate
As each of us
Must greet his fate,
One by one,
Burning in the sun.
I remember
Times we kissed
And hope to meet
Those we’ve missed,
When I’m passing over.
Event horizons of undone,
Fragments, really,
No one won—
We all just passed away.
MACROCOSM AND MICROCOSM
—Joe Nolan
The human race
Is out in space—
Spinning and spinning around.
No wonder we act
Like such dizzy characters—
Blowing each other up
In our towns.
Jet-black, inky darkness
Between galaxies
Does abound.
I need to hear
That you love me
So my heart might
Fill with light.
We need to go out dancing
To spin each other to bright.
You, in your finest evening-gown
And I, after drinks, feeling right.
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Oh! My Dear Face
Oh! My Dear Face
Never be upset
I didn't come to pimples
I didn't come to dimples
Oh! My dear face
Never be upset
I didn't come to wrinkles
I didn't come to mind rankles
Oh! My Dear Face
Never be upset.
—Ananta Kumar Singh, Bargarh, India
_______________________
Our Seed of the Week has been Opening Skies, and Carl Schwartz sent a multitude of his own photos as sky illustrations, and thanks to him for that. Thanks also to our poets, including a new face/pen from India: Ananta Kumar Singh, who hails from Bargarh in the Indian state of Odisha. He is studying English literature at Ravenshaw University, Cuttack. Welcome to the Kitchen, Ananta! And don’t be a stranger!
•••Tonight (Mon. (3/14), 7:30pm, Sac. Poetry Center Socially Distant Verse features Matthew Graham and Jordan Smith plus open mic. Zoom at us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. (Meeting ID: 763 873 3462 / pass: r3trnofsdv/.) Info: www.facebook.com/sacpoetrycenter/.
The Neves Women
•••This coming Sat. (3/19), 6-7:30pm: Placerville’s Third Saturday Poetry Art Walk open mic in Placerville celebrates Women’s History Month at TooGood Cellars, 302 Main St., Placerville, CA.
•••On Sunday, 3/20, 3pm: Lincoln Poets features Maria Elizabeth Rosales plus open mic on Zoom at us02web.zoom.us/j/87466015982/ (Meeting ID: 874 6601 5982; Passcode: 76610). Host: David Anderson.
_____________________
—Medusa
•••On Sunday, 3/20, 3pm: Lincoln Poets features Maria Elizabeth Rosales plus open mic on Zoom at us02web.zoom.us/j/87466015982/ (Meeting ID: 874 6601 5982; Passcode: 76610). Host: David Anderson.
_____________________
—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—
and collaborations are welcome.
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—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
