Monday, April 29, 2024

Knitting The World Together

 —Illustration by Nolcha Fox (with Microsoft Designer)

* * *

—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Steven Bruce, Caschwa, and Joe Nolan
—Visual Poetry by Robert Fleming
—Tree Illustration by Nolcha Fox
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Stephen Kingsnorth, Steven Bruce,
and Joe Nolan 

—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

Somewhere unbeknownst to man,
is forest hidden, untouched, wild.
Roots that knit the world together,
Leaves that paint the black of night.
Somewhere, something, bigger
than our tiny egos can envision,
somewhere that will outlast
all the damage we inflict.
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

Our arboretum, monument,
where folks recall the dead of war,
so many fallen, leaf on leaf,
consigned to earth, the world of worms.
There counterintuitive, dun
becomes burnt umber land, ground-scaped,
rich humus for the sapling root,
new life for old, continuous.

Pinetum for the conifers
from northern climes where Christmas grown,
to Lebanon’s Bsharri trees,
both signs of God in branched out faith
as Bodhi in the Buddhist way,
Yggdrasil for the Nordic strains.

Is this the privilege of trees,
as Eden to Golgotha, more,
to take the space in legend, lore,
from hourglass, route to canopy,
with mycorrhiza web on call?
Take tump or clump where bark is heard—
as chopped, spokeshaved or pecked, beak, bill—
there’s carbon storage on the hill.

That whipping post, those stocks, witch chair,
were cradle, marriage bed before,
and all things hewn for infant care—
indeed family tree carved out;
what may be harvest of our grain—
the nurtured life or deathbed knell?
Harvesting Tools 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Stephen Kingsnorth

—Stephen Kingsnorth

A treasure chest, still silver shine,
tools bright, though handles manicured
by leathered palms, patina years,
now pegged, clipped, hung in craftsman’s den;
from blade, spokeshave, to chisel grooved,
for furrow hew or plane and lathe,         
this vice clamp locks the sacred space,
that horde where bored cannot be found,
the artisan’s trove, unmoved, set square.

Paraphernalia screwed down,
with awls and all to punch their weight
through hide where seek the buckle bite—
this is the workshop for the grate,
sandpaper gauge to be applied.
Here sons ply wood with hammered nails—
learn cursed shrieks where thumbs intervene—
learn feel for trees by timber yards,
a metric for their carpentry.

As lads run rings and harvest grain,
know knots, as buff what can be done,
they learn to work with, journeymen,
and not to fight relationship,
mortise and tenon joined as one.
Bemoan claimed signs of fading skills,
but while there’s canopy, concern,
that bole of life outgrows the stump,
those trees present salvation yet.
Gilliat Struggles with the Giant Octopus
—Painting by Gustave Doré

—Steven Bruce, Barcelona, Spain

Out of their tiny mouths,
it comes, slight and salty,

a swirl of wearisome words,

which are nothing
but a sweeping small swell
over the stilled Kraken’s papillae.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

—Robert Fleming, Lewes, Delaware
Apollo 11 in 1969 discovers pizza

Moon crust pizza causes howling

Pizza with moon peppers causes jealousy

Pizza with mushrooms is a narcotic
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

Go ye 1st and
the mime

Go ye 2nd and
the Sky

Go ye 3rd and
the show

Go ye 4th and
the Estate

Go ye 5th and
a tale

Go ye 6th and
at Broadway

Go ye 7th and
the inning

Go ye 8th and

Go ye 9th and
a Grand Slam

Go ye 10th and

Go ye 11th and
the last hour
—Public Domain Cartoon Courtesy of Joe Nolan

she said she was fire
so he brought out the
fire extinguisher
to extinguish her

he said no woman could
ever put him in his place
so she dropped him
down a manhole

if only arians knew what

it doesn’t work to play
a grand finale
on a spinet

couldn’t speak French
so I called my
a ten-speed

once you admit that you’ve
been there and done that
they’ll throw the book
at you

I swallow pills to help my health
and to enrich
Big Pharma’s

—Public Domain Cartoon 
Courtesy of Joe Nolan


I’ll just woeander
along the winding Creekside
in the early dawn

humming woelodic
responses to the bird calls
in the forest trees

munching sliced woelon
for endurance and good strength
it is a long hike

my woemory fails
to recall where I started
hope the end is soon

oh woercy, woercy
there’s a deer hiding thither
we fear each other

and stay far apart
to remain off the woenu
together in peace
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

Would you like your
Fake chicken
Leafy green salad
Sprinkled with
To re-set your
Operating system
Or not?

You have choices,
You know?
It’s still a free society.

We’re not locking people down
Like 2021
And shoving this stuff
Down their throats.

That will come
Sometime later, maybe,
When the next, tragic,
Synthroid micro-predator
Is released into your genome
By mandated injection.


Today’s LittleNip:

Be seasonal, ethical, and gentle.

—Fennel Hudson,
Traditional Angling: Fennel’s Journal No. 6


Welcome to another week of Medusa’s Kitchen, and thanks to today’s contributors for helping us celebrate our Seed of the Week (in honor of last Friday’s Arbor Day), Trees—among, of course, other subjects from far and wide. 
This coming Thursday is the annual Big Day Of Giving. Go to to find out how to make a donation to your favorite non-profit.

Swan Scythe Press is accepting manuscripts for its 2024 chapbook contest through June 15th (postmark). Any living poet writing in English is eligible to submit. The winning manuscript will be published in a 6" x 9" format, perfect-bound with full-color cover. The contest winner will receive 25 copies of the book and a prize of $200. Info: go to submittable at 

And this coming Wednesday is the deadline for the annual anthology,
Voices, from Cold River Press. For info about that and other future poetry happenings in Northern California and otherwheres, click on UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS ( in the links at the top of this page. National Poetry Month will end that day, too, but that doesn’t mean NorCal poetry events will end—there’s plenty more to come! So keep an eye on that link for all that fun and poetry frolic in the future!


Goodnight, Moon...
—Public Domain Photo


A reminder that
Sacramento Poetry Center
will present Sarah Menefee and
Jim Normington tonight, 7:30pm.
For info about this 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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