WINTER ENTERS
A vague feeling
of winter enters
your bones
you wonder
if you are alone
so cold standing
at the door.
Winds interrupt thinking
brings back reality
water rushing
over rocks, the door
opens and closes
without warning
you begin waiting
for spring the way
the cigar store Indian
waited through years
of bad weather
as did the ancients
waiting for fire.
A vague feeling
of winter enters
your bones
you wonder
if you are alone
so cold standing
at the door.
Winds interrupt thinking
brings back reality
water rushing
over rocks, the door
opens and closes
without warning
you begin waiting
for spring the way
the cigar store Indian
waited through years
of bad weather
as did the ancients
waiting for fire.
THE WHITE PONY
The white pony is dirty white, like the platinum
haired doll dragged across the floor, its pink
rubber arms turned dusty rose, her clothes
lost when taken off to wash. Dirty white
like burnt marshmallows dropped into campfires
they slip from sticks, slither to earth. Dirt
beneath fingernails, scuff marks on the floor.
Greased to a full throttle race for love in a land
without windmills while riding a dirty
white pony, she lets him carry her purse.
GOOD NEWS
You’re
Perfect
You were born
In an era
Of planes and trains
And automobiles
Racing populations
Gobbling up everything
Coming and going everywhere
Try not to stare at the moon
Luniness is not good
Thankfulness is
So is sober
No telling
What is
Not.
MY HAND
When I was five
I used to sit
On the floor
In a sunbeam
Gazing at my hand
And ask
What
Is This?
Was I
An existential
Child that sought
Answers along with
Candied everything?
I NEED
To Be
Within
And without
Nature nurtures
Needlessly
Around
And through
Up and into
Staying
Like a jewel
In its
Setting
Like a lake
Lapping
Purifying
Meeting.
Today’s LittleNip:
WINTER
—Ann Privateer
meetings used to be
alien when change
was in the wind
do not confuse
a brown leaf
for a dead
mouse or the haves
for the have nots.
__________________
—Medusa, thanking Ann Privateer for today’s fine poetry and photos!
WINTER
—Ann Privateer
meetings used to be
alien when change
was in the wind
do not confuse
a brown leaf
for a dead
mouse or the haves
for the have nots.
__________________
—Medusa, thanking Ann Privateer for today’s fine poetry and photos!
Friends of Sacramento poet/artist/teacher/musician (Runcible Spoon) D.R. Wagner will be saddened to know that he passed away in Sutter General Hospital yesterday morning. D.R. was a great friend of Medusa's Kitchen, and Rattlesnake Press published several books of his poetry, artwork, and needlepoint. He will be sorely missed. Rest easy, D.R.!
D.R. Wagner (1943-2023)
For upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
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.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
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!
LittleSnake’s Glimmer of Hope
(A cookie from the Kitchen for today)
rainbows of
Christmas lights—
tiny pops of
hope and faith
and promise
on this cold, dark
winter’s night…
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
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.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
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!
(A cookie from the Kitchen for today)
rainbows of
Christmas lights—
tiny pops of
hope and faith
and promise
on this cold, dark
winter’s night…