BIG BRIDGE
—Dee Allen, Oakland, CA
Based on an example shown
By a wise man from Tallahassee
Who taught us to become
What we wanted to see,
We crossed the big bridge he pointed to
Like civil rights activists of the past
In 1965 Selma, Alabama,
Leading to troubled masses, we act as
100,000
Inheritors to what he began,
100,000
Avatars of light,
100,000
Speakers of truth,
100,000
Champions for right,
100,000
Voices shout,
100,000
Voices teach,
100,000
Voices soothe,
100,000
Voices reach,
100,000
Carriers of fire,
100,000
Call for an equal, level plane,
100,000
Vocal vessels for justice,
100,000
Poets For Change.
For Michael Rothenberg, 1951-2022
My father
always said my head
was full of rocks.
I etched his name
on each one so
he’d always be
on my mind.
—Nolcha Fox
The dog whines
to go out. But open the door,
and she stares at the snowflakes
turning February white.
The dog is a cat, not wanting
to go out or stay in.
Silly dog, run, bark, chase
the wind, and bring home
spring.
—Nolcha Fox
CHILDHOOD DINNER-TABLE
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
A different flavor of sauce
Comes from
Where you are from.
It’s pungent, spicy,
Drips and runs,
Unlike where I am from,
Where bland is much-in-demand—
Where mushy veggies
Are eaten with spoons,
Potatoes are mandatory
And peas come from cans.
You eat them with forks
If they don’t dance away
From your splines,
Rolling around on your plate
As they try to escape
Being devoured.
You must eat every, little, last one
Of the round, rolling green-things
That taste like paste.
Be quick and have hast—
The sooner they’re down
The sooner you can leave
Your childhood dinner-table
After you’ve said, “Excuse me.”
THE LID AND THE CUP
—Joe Nolan
Why does the lid
Not fit the cup?
What has brought
This trouble up?
Which reason has
Gone insane?
In the middle,
We argue and quibble,
Against the margins,
Lost against the edge.
We neither launch
Nor hedge,
For fear of
Vain chagrin.
INTERVIEW WITH ROBERT FROST
(Vermont, 1950's)
—Joe Nolan
This guy
Is, like, frozen.
Only his lips move.
The rest of his face
Is caught-up
With words
He has chosen.
He is intent upon his words,
Like he is writing.
He is a poet
Allowing an interview
And the reporter
Wants to know his soul
In the course of an afternoon.
He says what
He has to say,
But not too soon,
Not too fast,
Hoping his meanings will catch,
Be passed on and last,
From a reporter’s notes
For later publication.
After he’s gone
Others will look on
Try to know and
Try to understand
The meaning of this man,
Recognized as a poet.
BEAUTY
—Joe Nolan
Beauty
Does not disappear,
But when you wake,
You’ll find it’s waned.
Not something
You can hold or take,
Nor conjure up
Or vain, forsake.
Beauty does not disappear.
It makes a smile
From ear to ear—
Something deeply glow.
When it’s gone,
You’ll know.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
My rhythm rests
on roads so hard,
they break my bones
each time I fall.
—Nolcha Fox
____________________
Good Monday morning, and welcome to newcomer Dee Allen! Dee is an African-Italian performance poet based in Oakland, California, who has been active in creative writing & Spoken Word since the early 1990s. Author of 7 books: Boneyard, Unwritten Law, Stormwater, Skeletal Black (all from POOR Press), Elohi Unitsi (Conviction 2 Change Publishing), Rusty Gallows: Passages Against Hate (Vagabond Books) and Plans (Nomadic Press)—as well as having 67 anthology appearances under his figurative belt so far. He is currently seeking a new publisher to transform his finished manuscript into a finished-and-printed 8th book. Again, welcome to the Kitchen, Dee, and don’t be a stranger!
This week in poetry—weather willing—Sac. Poetry Center features readers from Hart Center Poetry Workshop Members tonight, 7:30pm; Tuesday’s Twin Lotus Thai/Fourth Tuesday Poetry presents The Seven Poets of PCG at 6pm in Sacramento (reservations requested); Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe, also in Sacramento, presents featured readers and open mic, 8pm on Thursday; and, on Saturday, Karla Brundage reads at Silver Tongue Saturdays in Auburn. 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 (or be cancelled!) during the week. By the way, if you have a reading coming up, don’t forget to advertise it in a timely manner, especially if it needs registration…
Good news: Katy Brown, who underwent recent surgery, is now cancer-free. She will not even need follow-up radiation. See a poem by Katy on next Friday’s post.
___________________
—Medusa
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