—Poetry by Cynthia Linville, Lincoln, CA
—Photos of the Sonoma Coast by Cynthia Linville
DRAWING PERSPECTIVE*
1. Be Aware of the Horizon
Sometimes history slings you sideways: a voice, a name
2. Perspective is Simply an Illusion
peels back suppression
unmuffles a silent rage
3. Above and Below the Horizon Line
and it’s all you can do
to bite back a snarl,
swallow a storm.
4. What Distance Looks Like
You take a deep breath
fake politeness
thank the stars that it’s only a phone call,
that he’s out of your life—for good.
5. Where Vanishing Points Go
“A reunion? This weekend?
No, I couldn’t possibly,
far, far too busy.
So kind of you to think of me
after all these years.”
6. Leave Details Behind
Afterwards
you wander through your home
fingering a silk scarf
cradling a polished stone.
“Mine,” you think
almost floating.
1. Be Aware of the Horizon
Sometimes history slings you sideways: a voice, a name
2. Perspective is Simply an Illusion
peels back suppression
unmuffles a silent rage
3. Above and Below the Horizon Line
and it’s all you can do
to bite back a snarl,
swallow a storm.
4. What Distance Looks Like
You take a deep breath
fake politeness
thank the stars that it’s only a phone call,
that he’s out of your life—for good.
5. Where Vanishing Points Go
“A reunion? This weekend?
No, I couldn’t possibly,
far, far too busy.
So kind of you to think of me
after all these years.”
6. Leave Details Behind
Afterwards
you wander through your home
fingering a silk scarf
cradling a polished stone.
“Mine,” you think
almost floating.
*The headings in this poem are taken from the article, “11 Perspective Tips for Convincing Architectural Sketches and Paintings” by Courtney Jordan, published on ArtistsNetwork.com.
JENNER BY THE SEA
She walks against the wind for pleasure
wanting to walk away from herself,
wanting to be a tourist in her own life.
She walks into a memory-filled silence:
She stood right here, at 15,
buoyant from a new kiss.
At 22, she stood on this overlook
and suddenly knew what to do with her life
(and that career stuck).
And here, freshly divorced,
she made peace
with the rough tides inside.
She lets the past anchor her.
And now she finds that
she hasn’t walked away from anything.
She’s only returned.
She always returns to the sea.
THE END OF TIME
“Our bodies are made of time.”
—The Electric Hotel by Dominic Smith
Here at the end (her end)
she’s lost her taste for the past.
It’s the present that’s juicy–
ruby red grapefruit
chicory coffee with cream
the fresh silence of morning.
Still—stories whisper across the decades.
They pulse and hum
a near-constant susurrus
lengthening
shifting
overlapping.
She is forever swimming in stories
sluicing through silence
drifting forward, coming back—
to her coffee, her grapefruit
to the time that she has.
Here at the end (her end)
she’s lost her taste for the past.
It’s the present that’s juicy–
ruby red grapefruit
chicory coffee with cream
the fresh silence of morning.
Still—stories whisper across the decades.
They pulse and hum
a near-constant susurrus
lengthening
shifting
overlapping.
She is forever swimming in stories
sluicing through silence
drifting forward, coming back—
to her coffee, her grapefruit
to the time that she has.
SEPTEMBER 28
The wind is the sound of the past receding.
Once Ian comes striding out of the sea
nothing can spare them.
Still—she wants to see what will happen next.
The colorless light
speeds towards the edge of land—
collides into a suddenly skyless world
First the silence, then the roar—
everything smudged with green
everything shredded into a litter of clouds
The storm is in her chest
like hands wrapped around her heart.
Ian is rending in two the world that once was:
spouting sky into sea
sea into streets
She comes to believe that she has always been here
inside this vibrating silence.
Then—
nothing
no one.
Outside—the endlessly pooled water
reflects what’s been lost
what’s left
She thinks, how quickly it passed.
Then she blinks,
looks up, and sees that
everywhere the world is raining flowers.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
HIGH PRIESTESS
—Cynthia Linville
I wear the sun on my back
the moon on my brow
the wind in my hair
and dew on my skin
I hold starlight in my hands
and fire in my breath
The earth is firm
beneath my feet
_______________________
—Medusa, with thanks to long-time SnakePal Cynthia Linville for today’s fine poetry and photos, “…holding starlight in her hands…”
And a note that, in addition to Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe in Sacramento tonight, Speak Your Peace Open Mic features Bryttina Wyatt and Sixx, also in Sacramento. Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about these and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
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!
