Dog Pile
—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Caschwa, Allan Lake, Taylor Dibbert, and
Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Photos by Joe Nolan
Caschwa, Allan Lake, Taylor Dibbert, and
Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Photos by Joe Nolan
The sky is a funnel
of blue fade to nightfall,
the buildings fade dark
as the streetlights wake up.
The moon watches bright
as I drive home to dinner.
She makes sure I’m safe
‘til I walk in the door.
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
of blue fade to nightfall,
the buildings fade dark
as the streetlights wake up.
The moon watches bright
as I drive home to dinner.
She makes sure I’m safe
‘til I walk in the door.
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
Days melted
into summer’s heat,
my bare feet dancing
on the concrete.
Icy theater was my refuge,
cartoon and a double feature,
I cooled my toes and hid in darkness.
Smog-smeared sunsets vanished
into cricket-calling night.
Early bedtime, windows open,
wishing I could be outside.
—Nolcha Fox
into summer’s heat,
my bare feet dancing
on the concrete.
Icy theater was my refuge,
cartoon and a double feature,
I cooled my toes and hid in darkness.
Smog-smeared sunsets vanished
into cricket-calling night.
Early bedtime, windows open,
wishing I could be outside.
—Nolcha Fox
JUST DAWNING
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
Past night owl, drag to climb the stairs,
retiring, opportunity,
dazed in doze, daydream fulfilled.
Leave that owl, night exercise,
to prey, too late where fly-by-night;
I’ll bed down, old eiderdown,
familiar, black cat in curl,
for my last stand now out of time,
a timeout when the game is up.
Call it a night when term expires,
the passing phase in idiom;
it dawns that morning, one-night stand—
that calendar, and passed my date.
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
Past night owl, drag to climb the stairs,
retiring, opportunity,
dazed in doze, daydream fulfilled.
Leave that owl, night exercise,
to prey, too late where fly-by-night;
I’ll bed down, old eiderdown,
familiar, black cat in curl,
for my last stand now out of time,
a timeout when the game is up.
Call it a night when term expires,
the passing phase in idiom;
it dawns that morning, one-night stand—
that calendar, and passed my date.
NIGHTWATCH
—Stephen Kingsnorth
Celebration or despair,
bumping fists or licking wounds,
pitch battles, home front, soccer, war,
who’s on the field in play or grave,
glasses raised for beer or peer,
a chink of cheer, night vision light?
Holding up as dragging back,
drunk or wounded in the fray,
night on the tiles, fear cell or slab;
gone not gentle but in rage—
what once called young is time for sleep.
—Stephen Kingsnorth
Celebration or despair,
bumping fists or licking wounds,
pitch battles, home front, soccer, war,
who’s on the field in play or grave,
glasses raised for beer or peer,
a chink of cheer, night vision light?
Holding up as dragging back,
drunk or wounded in the fray,
night on the tiles, fear cell or slab;
gone not gentle but in rage—
what once called young is time for sleep.
PICKING ONE’S BATTLES
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
solution for sores on dry skin #1:
shower more frequently
did that
outcome: skin was more moist;
Water Police told me
I was using more water
than at this same time
last year
solution for sores on dry skin #2
apply moisturizing cream
did that
outcome: skin was more moist;
which is exactly the
environment bed bugs
prefer
Behind the Scenes, Filming Julia Child
OUR UNFINISHED BUSINESS
—Caschwa
At the close of the Civil War, the USA
addressed the abolishment of slavery
with three Reconstruction Amendments:
XIII—ended slavery in all the states
XIV—gave all people born in the USA full
citizenship
XV—gave former slaves the right to vote
Maybe this had a little bit to do with why
the winners of the Civil War didn’t opt to
take the losers as slaves, which was not an
uncommon outcome in the history of warfare
So don’t be surprised if it takes more than one
Amendment to the Constitution to remove
assault weapons from the general marketplace,
and reserve their use to the nation’s armed forces
and the states’ well-regulated militias
if we are successful in limiting the possession and
use of assault weapons by the general public, we
just might see a decrease in those terrible scenarios
where some disgruntled or deranged individual
goes out and kills multiple innocent people with
an assault weapon that can accomplish that fateful
act in the space of a few seconds of time
—Caschwa
At the close of the Civil War, the USA
addressed the abolishment of slavery
with three Reconstruction Amendments:
XIII—ended slavery in all the states
XIV—gave all people born in the USA full
citizenship
XV—gave former slaves the right to vote
Maybe this had a little bit to do with why
the winners of the Civil War didn’t opt to
take the losers as slaves, which was not an
uncommon outcome in the history of warfare
So don’t be surprised if it takes more than one
Amendment to the Constitution to remove
assault weapons from the general marketplace,
and reserve their use to the nation’s armed forces
and the states’ well-regulated militias
if we are successful in limiting the possession and
use of assault weapons by the general public, we
just might see a decrease in those terrible scenarios
where some disgruntled or deranged individual
goes out and kills multiple innocent people with
an assault weapon that can accomplish that fateful
act in the space of a few seconds of time
Major Oooopsies
IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS
—Caschwa
Before machines lifted and shook the trash bins,
there were workers who raised and emptied the
bins into the trucks themselves. Many of these
workers were welcome visitors to the community,
and it was OK if your children engaged them in
small talk.
With rare exception, these trash collectors transferred
the waste from one container to another, without
digging into it and examining the findings. But there
may have been one collector here and there, who
set some aside on the belief that one man’s trash is
another man’s treasure.
And then we encounter that twice-impeached old
timer who makes the nastiest public comments about
people close to him, and in a very strange twist of fate,
the targets of his comments hold their fire and bow
in subservience to the old man. As if that crafty old
timer has some piece of incriminating trash on each
one of them.
—Caschwa
Before machines lifted and shook the trash bins,
there were workers who raised and emptied the
bins into the trucks themselves. Many of these
workers were welcome visitors to the community,
and it was OK if your children engaged them in
small talk.
With rare exception, these trash collectors transferred
the waste from one container to another, without
digging into it and examining the findings. But there
may have been one collector here and there, who
set some aside on the belief that one man’s trash is
another man’s treasure.
And then we encounter that twice-impeached old
timer who makes the nastiest public comments about
people close to him, and in a very strange twist of fate,
the targets of his comments hold their fire and bow
in subservience to the old man. As if that crafty old
timer has some piece of incriminating trash on each
one of them.
DOGGY DREAMING
—Allan Lake, Allover, Australia
I’m content to be your pooch,
which is not to imply my mama
was a bitch, mounted momentarily by
an opportunist mongrel who punctuated
nuptials by pissing on a parked Porsche.
But what does history or pisstory matter,
beloved? You’re the primate who chose
me to be your prime mate and along
the way discovered all my favourite
things: chicken feet, pig snout, bull
penis. Aphrodisiacs, clever darling.
We cuddle on our sofa, my head on
your lap. You stroke; I lick your fragrant
electrolyte skin. You scratch behind
my ears; I dream of a catfree world.
Leashed or unleashed, we trot care-freely
in parks where I fetch your silly ball
between turn-on treats from Pet Pantry.
At night we sleep in the same bed,
wake up smelling of each other
as lovers do.
—Allan Lake, Allover, Australia
I’m content to be your pooch,
which is not to imply my mama
was a bitch, mounted momentarily by
an opportunist mongrel who punctuated
nuptials by pissing on a parked Porsche.
But what does history or pisstory matter,
beloved? You’re the primate who chose
me to be your prime mate and along
the way discovered all my favourite
things: chicken feet, pig snout, bull
penis. Aphrodisiacs, clever darling.
We cuddle on our sofa, my head on
your lap. You stroke; I lick your fragrant
electrolyte skin. You scratch behind
my ears; I dream of a catfree world.
Leashed or unleashed, we trot care-freely
in parks where I fetch your silly ball
between turn-on treats from Pet Pantry.
At night we sleep in the same bed,
wake up smelling of each other
as lovers do.
BANGED UP
—Taylor Dibbert, Washington, DC
His dear little London is still banged up,
He’s seen signs of improvement,
And then backsliding,
She’s still limping around,
He’s hurting too,
He hates seeing her in pain,
Pretty soon he’ll be walking with a limp of
his own.
—Taylor Dibbert, Washington, DC
His dear little London is still banged up,
He’s seen signs of improvement,
And then backsliding,
She’s still limping around,
He’s hurting too,
He hates seeing her in pain,
Pretty soon he’ll be walking with a limp of
his own.
FIVE YEARS WITH LONDON
—Taylor Dibbert
He’s just reached five years with London,
She’s fifteen now,
Their bond couldn’t be stronger,
And he couldn’t feel more grateful for this
amazing dog.
—Taylor Dibbert
He’s just reached five years with London,
She’s fifteen now,
Their bond couldn’t be stronger,
And he couldn’t feel more grateful for this
amazing dog.
TAVERN VIEW OF RIVER
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
I have
Come to love
My gnawing bitch
Who chews
Up all my shoes.
She wags
Her tail,
Telling me
She loves my stink
That goes below
Into leather platforms
To keep feet warm in snow,
That let me go
Over cobblestones
And up a hill
To visit neighbors,
Up above,
Who sometimes, will,
Join us in our tavern,
Down below,
To watch old barges go
Out the window,
Up and down our river
That puts our town
On maps.
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
I have
Come to love
My gnawing bitch
Who chews
Up all my shoes.
She wags
Her tail,
Telling me
She loves my stink
That goes below
Into leather platforms
To keep feet warm in snow,
That let me go
Over cobblestones
And up a hill
To visit neighbors,
Up above,
Who sometimes, will,
Join us in our tavern,
Down below,
To watch old barges go
Out the window,
Up and down our river
That puts our town
On maps.
EARTH AFIRE
—Joe Nolan
A bright spark of light
Drifted over
Darkened landscape,
Convoluted
Underneath a wave
Of burning lava,
Spoke relief,
Spoke redemption,
To the burning magma
That claimed the Earth,
Its own.
The stars spoke not,
Noticing, but not remarking,
Knowing they, themselves,
Are burning fire
Set alight
By who knows what?
When no one’s left to care
For cooling or for shame?
—Joe Nolan
A bright spark of light
Drifted over
Darkened landscape,
Convoluted
Underneath a wave
Of burning lava,
Spoke relief,
Spoke redemption,
To the burning magma
That claimed the Earth,
Its own.
The stars spoke not,
Noticing, but not remarking,
Knowing they, themselves,
Are burning fire
Set alight
By who knows what?
When no one’s left to care
For cooling or for shame?
UNACCEPTABLE DREAMS
—Joe Nolan
I, who like awake at night
Waiting for a dream
To take my mind
Into a place of absence,
Where senses fall away,
Plead unconsciousness
In defense against
My critics,
Who demand I
Be dragged away
And put into a cell
Underneath a pyramid,
Since thoughts like mine
Should not be shown
To innocent, impressionable
Upstarts, who have
Half-a-heart
To condemn
Anyone who thinks
For himself.
—Joe Nolan
I, who like awake at night
Waiting for a dream
To take my mind
Into a place of absence,
Where senses fall away,
Plead unconsciousness
In defense against
My critics,
Who demand I
Be dragged away
And put into a cell
Underneath a pyramid,
Since thoughts like mine
Should not be shown
To innocent, impressionable
Upstarts, who have
Half-a-heart
To condemn
Anyone who thinks
For himself.
SAPPHIRE AND RUBY
—Joe Nolan
Sapphire
Summons crystal
To shine a bright,
Blue light
For glowing-ruby,
Whose red-light is dim,
Warm and devoid of form,
Since minstrels
Have started to play
Music
They
Created
Years ago,
When L.S.D. was freely
Available
And tie-dye
Was not yet in vogue
And young women
Liked the scent of patchouli
And their young men
Were happy to be
Along for the ride,
Through draping doorway-beads
And hanging macramé,
Into some inner-sanctum
Where eventually,
It would be
Just she and he!
—Joe Nolan
Sapphire
Summons crystal
To shine a bright,
Blue light
For glowing-ruby,
Whose red-light is dim,
Warm and devoid of form,
Since minstrels
Have started to play
Music
They
Created
Years ago,
When L.S.D. was freely
Available
And tie-dye
Was not yet in vogue
And young women
Liked the scent of patchouli
And their young men
Were happy to be
Along for the ride,
Through draping doorway-beads
And hanging macramé,
Into some inner-sanctum
Where eventually,
It would be
Just she and he!
THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP, BLUE SEA
—Joe Nolan
It was a choice
Between the Devil and
The deep, blue sea.
We went with the deep, blue sea.
We might just as well
Have gone with the Devil,
But we had our religion,
Even though most knew it not.
Why must we face such dilemmas?
Maybe it’s the work of the Devil
Who likes to torture our minds
To curse our free wills—
Yes, you have a free choice,
But only between
Two impossible options.
Choose wisely.
Your fate depends on it.
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
EXPLODE WITH JOY
—Joe Nolan
For a heart
To explode with joy,
It must crack through
Its crying shell,
Releasing its attachments,
If only for awhile, and
Let joy bubble-up
Into a perfect smile
That shines so well!
_____________________
This morning we have a visitor from Australia to help us celebrate National Poetry Month here in the US! Allan Lake is a poet, originally from Allover, Canada, who now writes in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. His latest collection, published by Ginninderra Press, My Photos of Sicily, contains no photos, only poems. Welcome to the Kitchen, Allan, and don’t be a stranger!
Our thanks to all our other poets this morning, and to Joe Nolan for hunting up public domain photos.
The April edition of Sac. Poetry Center’s Poet News is out, edited by Patrick Grizzell and available at https://www.sacpoetrycenter.org/about-1-1/. And SPC’s Gallery is open again, this time with an art exhibit by Daniel Schoori which runs through May 10, with an open house on April 16 and a closing reception on May 6.
—Joe Nolan
It was a choice
Between the Devil and
The deep, blue sea.
We went with the deep, blue sea.
We might just as well
Have gone with the Devil,
But we had our religion,
Even though most knew it not.
Why must we face such dilemmas?
Maybe it’s the work of the Devil
Who likes to torture our minds
To curse our free wills—
Yes, you have a free choice,
But only between
Two impossible options.
Choose wisely.
Your fate depends on it.
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
EXPLODE WITH JOY
—Joe Nolan
For a heart
To explode with joy,
It must crack through
Its crying shell,
Releasing its attachments,
If only for awhile, and
Let joy bubble-up
Into a perfect smile
That shines so well!
_____________________
This morning we have a visitor from Australia to help us celebrate National Poetry Month here in the US! Allan Lake is a poet, originally from Allover, Canada, who now writes in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. His latest collection, published by Ginninderra Press, My Photos of Sicily, contains no photos, only poems. Welcome to the Kitchen, Allan, and don’t be a stranger!
Our thanks to all our other poets this morning, and to Joe Nolan for hunting up public domain photos.
The April edition of Sac. Poetry Center’s Poet News is out, edited by Patrick Grizzell and available at https://www.sacpoetrycenter.org/about-1-1/. And SPC’s Gallery is open again, this time with an art exhibit by Daniel Schoori which runs through May 10, with an open house on April 16 and a closing reception on May 6.
By the way, I've changed Five Grande Dames to Four Grande Dames for the SPC reading next Monday. Joyce Odam's daughter, Robin, tells me that Joyce isn't up to reading these days, but she was mistakenly listed in the SPC notice for April 10. But Joyce is still writing poetry; look for her and Robin in the Kitchen on Tuesdays!
Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about future poetry events for this week and beyond in the NorCal area, starting with the Sacramento Poetry Center’s Youth Open Mic tonight, 7:30pm, in Sacramento. There is LOTS going on for National Poetry Month, including readings, workshops, Sierra Poetry Festival pop-ups, and on this Wednesday, a memorial reading for Luke Breit—and keep an eye on Medusa's UPCOMING link and on the daily Kitchen for more happenings that might pop up during the week.
For more about National Poetry Month, including ways to celebrate, see https://poets.org/national-poetry-month. And sign up for Poem-a-Day at https://poets.org/poem-a-day/, plus read about Poem in Your Pocket Day (this year, April 27) at https://poets.org/national-poetry-month/poem-your-pocket-day/.
___________________
—Medusa
May April bring you calm seas and following winds~
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!
