Monday, April 08, 2024

An Abundance of Abundance

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy
of Stephen Kingsnorth

* * *

—Poetry by Stephen Kingsnorth, 
Claire J. Baker, David Fewster,
Caschwa, and Joe Nolan
—Original Artwork by Norman J. Olson
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joe Nolan
and Stephen Kingsnorth
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

See hanging fruit, full apple tree,
all swelling where no space remains;
those granaries, vast waving fields,
a heavy harvest, hundredfold.

Thus why abundance can cause cloy
when erotemes, ‘unfair’ applied
more readily, exploring verse—
for most material in store?
Is it such showers known before—
yet little need has crossed my path,
so plenteous has taken grant,
for granted means so little thanks?

Is greed, not need, confirmed as ploy
to be resisted, lonely voice—
against the bonhomie, rejoice
that gods accepted sacrifice?
I do not want abundance scene
when lottery of where we’re born
dictates desert or party mood?
My world not wasted save by waste.

Biologists, artists—ABUN,
united to conserve, projects
that universal wealth maintained
for health of wildlife on our ground.
So good that dance is half the word,
for energy in limbs on move
is overflow, beyond the norm
of walk, talk, being complement.

And so it is for nature’s seed—
a multiplicity indeed—
and if who have so much will share
then dancing spirits mark the globe. 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA

We don’t
have filters, wait
while the moon slips into
right slot to darken the sun. Stop,
don’t look. 
 —Art by Norman J. Olson, Maplewood, MN

—David Fewster, Tacoma, WA

When she was 40,
some nice young feller from
their shared 2nd-rate art school
took Emily to see the paintings
by the new-fangled Fauves.
And the layers of accumulated crust
from decades of crappy academic training
flaked off like the scales on St. Paul's eyes.

Johnny Cash spent his entire life
coming out of his cave periodically
to see what the new musicians were doing.
His last hit record was a cover of
a Nine Inch Nails song.
How fucking cool was that?

Jean Cocteau spent his 50-year career
trying to make the young people love him,
frequently a figure of disdain,
like an overly made-up old tart
clutching a fox fur on a chilly cafe terrace.
Suddenly, at the end of his life,
the new wave kids adopted him.
Godard adored him.
Truffaut financed his last film,
made when he was 70.

Is there anything more pitiful than
the old geezer sitting at the reading,
antennae flailing wildly,
looking for signs of the new?
I know, I am that geezer.
And what, may you ask, are my conclusions
about the innovations I've discerned in
the poets of the 21st century?

They all read their stuff
off their phones.
—Art by Norman J. Olson

—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

there are some people
who are just full of
(you know what I mean)
and if you use the shorter
word to tell them that, it only
brings a smirk to their
unkempt composure

what are we to do with
these people? they are
the only kind of people
who make trickle-down
work, because that kind
of abundance decomposes
at its own rate and tries to
impregnate itself into our
home and life style

it is not as workable as
moldy cheese, where you
could cut some away and
manage to salvage a bit,
no, every iota of that stinking
abundance that trickles down
stains something else

Fortunately we have people
to represent us in both houses
of Egress and the Supreme hog
who have a long history of
managing abundance, so maybe
they will think of a good solution
agreeable to them, that will
eventually trickle down to us 
—Art by Norman J. Olson


aging is causing me to lose my youth
if you find any of it,
take better care of it than I did

there are two identical doors here:
one is a portal to the age of enlightenment
the other a portal to the age of ignorance

in one afternoon one might find oneself
thinking they are consuming something nourishing
and then finding out it is cancerous

or avoid something they think is cancerous
and then finding out it is nourishing

I’d just like to know how much money I have
without letting everyone else know

I am not selling shoes, or bibles, but
as soon as it falls out, my hair is on the market
it will be the best hair anyone has ever seen

There are odd days and even days, but seven
times a year, there are two odd days in a row 
—Art by Norman J. Olson


I fully understand how
a piece of wood could
be called a board

and how such wood is
used for people to step
on to board a ship

but when a person says
they are board certified,
does that mean they’ve
been approved by a mere
piece of wood that people
step on?
 —Art by Norman J. Olson

—Joe Nolan
Grateful for
The way a cookie crumbles,

How the crumbs
Are there
For the gathering.

Managing catastrophes
Is more than a
Meaningful pastime.

It’s something
We should
Aspire to do,

It’s not just paramedics
We adore,
But also trauma doctors
And E.R. nurses
On the trauma unit
Who do their best to
Paste us back together,
With screws, rods
And super-glue,
When we’ve come apart
Into little crumbs.
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

A woman
Had a baby
By a fish.

It was not her wish.
She did not command

The fish jumped from her hands
And went below.
What happened later
She says she does not know,

But her baby
Grew with fins and tail,
From waist, down,
Covered-over in scales.
From her head,
Hung a golden mane.

She struggled
To choose a suitable name
For her mixed-species offspring.

She settled on
A name no one would claim:
 —Art by Norman J. Olson

—Joe Nolan

Too many wounds
Too hard to heal.

Too strong a will
That would not yield,
But had to have its way,

So we had to say,

We are creatures
Descended from
Other creatures,
In circumstances,

Born with warts,
Fins or fans.

The bright, undone.

Good fences
Keep neighbors
Far enough apart,
They don’t need to start
In upon
One another.

Love your neighbor
As yourself.
Keep them at arm’s length
Or somewhat farther,
Maybe across a yard
Or maybe two.

Do the best that you can do
Managing magnetic fields
Among the stubborn
Who never yield
Who might overwhelm you.
 —Art by Norman J. Olson

—Joe Nolan

Dream a dream
Of something small,
A thing
You call

Dream your dream
Your lifetime, long,

When old,
Sit on your shelf,
Surrounded by
Your books and memoirs,
Read by no one, else,

You are
No more. 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

Today’s LittleNip:

And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.

—William Wordsworth


Many thanks to our contributors today, including artist/photographer Norman J. Olson for the work he has sent us. Our Seed of the Week was Abundance, and we certainly have a rich abundance of poetry and visuals here in the Kitchen. Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.

Today is the day of the total solar eclipse! The bad news is that we won’t have a total eclipse here in Sacramento; the good news is that we do get a partial one. Go to, for example, to see what will be happening in Citrus Heights, CA, this morning.

And there is an abundance of events celebrating National Poetry Month in our area this week, including, among many others, the Sierra Poetry Festival ( next Saturday in Grass Valley, with all its Pop-Up Poetry events happening on different days around the area. For more about National Poetry Month happenings in Northern California and otherwheres, click on UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS ( in the links at the top of this page.


 William Wordsworth’s Daffodils
—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain

A reminder that
Poetic License read-around
takes place in Placerville
this morning, 10:30am;
Nellie Wong and Vincent Kobelt
(with open mic) read on Zoom
for the Rivertown Poets & Aqua Cafe
tonight, 6:15pm; and tonight is
Youth Open Mic at
Sacramento Poetry Center, 7:30pm.
For info about these and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
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.

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