—Public Domain Visuals Courtesy of Medusa
SIGHTS, SOUNDS & SKYWALKER JAVA
Coffee steams out of my Darth Vader mugs
rolls down my empty gullet as Quaker oatmeal
comes to a boil on the stove; peering out
my kitchen window, I notice a small herd
of whitetail deer ankle deep in Annas Bay
pensively scanning the Hood Canal
alert ears listen to harbor seals bark,
Canada geese honk, and sea lions grunt.
Pouring a second cup of java, the herd
stood spellbound, observing an orca pod leap
out of water, emitting various pulsed calls,
whistles, and echolocation clicks while waves
lap at their legs, soothing tired, cloven toes
chilling keratin hooves, waiting for ebb tides
to reveal hidden salt flats and oyster beds…
lead to small-island safety where does birth fawns.
Coffee steams out of my Darth Vader mugs
rolls down my empty gullet as Quaker oatmeal
comes to a boil on the stove; peering out
my kitchen window, I notice a small herd
of whitetail deer ankle deep in Annas Bay
pensively scanning the Hood Canal
alert ears listen to harbor seals bark,
Canada geese honk, and sea lions grunt.
Pouring a second cup of java, the herd
stood spellbound, observing an orca pod leap
out of water, emitting various pulsed calls,
whistles, and echolocation clicks while waves
lap at their legs, soothing tired, cloven toes
chilling keratin hooves, waiting for ebb tides
to reveal hidden salt flats and oyster beds…
lead to small-island safety where does birth fawns.
31 FLAVORS REVISITED
Frozen lactose melts
down conical waffle sugar cones
young unwashed fingers squeeze the essence
of a momentary freeze as if corralling stray sheep,
confident broad tongue strokes would curb inertia
chocolate embracing a thawing mass, destined
to decorate diamond match sidewalks
like butter in frying pans
or else trickle down
parched throats
drip ice cream
rivers, refresh
bellies that feel
like furnace
cavities ready
to explode,
shrivel like
beached
jellyfish
in the
sun.
Frozen lactose melts
down conical waffle sugar cones
young unwashed fingers squeeze the essence
of a momentary freeze as if corralling stray sheep,
confident broad tongue strokes would curb inertia
chocolate embracing a thawing mass, destined
to decorate diamond match sidewalks
like butter in frying pans
or else trickle down
parched throats
drip ice cream
rivers, refresh
bellies that feel
like furnace
cavities ready
to explode,
shrivel like
beached
jellyfish
in the
sun.
FORECASTER FAUX PAS
Weather predictors proclaimed inaugural spring
as buds emerged through tree branches
daffodils sprouted from down below
birds sought dry grass to construct nests.
We washed mold & mildew off our slip ‘n slide
placed peatmoss like a feather mattress
on a stretch of lawn to cushion landings
& increase momentum on the plastic film.
Three days in a row we’d wait till classes ended
hurried home ASAP to begin our ritual exercise
skimming the slick sheet like stones
skipping across waterways…never sinking.
In a week the butterflies, June bugs & buzzing bees
disappeared following a torrential downpour
unexpected, endlessly pelting our water slide
with rain, hail, and a micro blanket of snow….
WEEPY WALLPAPER
Interlocking chains hang
from the ceiling molding
to a wooden wainscoting
discolored maroon wallpaper
clung to lathe and plaster
water spot stains revealed
places where rain seeped
through leaky roof shingles.
I stared into the weepy design
imagined its genius from ink
patterns and finish drying
to cutting and packaging
decorative rolls that seamlessly
incorporated mold and mildew marks
into the initial blueprint, placing
water blemishes beyond reproach.
JUDICE MISCONSTRUED
A blue hour descended along the shoreline
I hear Judice’s gospel voice whisper, whisper,
whisper
from on high then shed light far below
haunting heaven’s pearly gates with academic
curiosity less anxious to dwell as a spiritual
entity
than examine the remainder of glacial fjords
watching Washington’s winter snowcaps drool
down mountains, etch irregular patterns.
Judice’s misread chill inexplicably melted away
her natural ablation mimicked icy peaks nearby
baptizing promontories, flooding gopher and mole
burrows on the headlands; patient and kind,
she never “suffered fools” yet gave me weekly
chances
to notice her profile in the university theatre lecture
hall
always two seats away on the left; like lost oppor-
tunities
amid frog rain, regret consumes me upon reflection.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Some people walk in the rain. Others just get wet.
—Roger Miller
____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Sterling Warner for today’s fine poetry!
Be sure to keep SnakePal Nolcha Fox in your thoughts today, as she undergoes surgery in hopes of relieving her mega-monster migraines.
For future 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?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
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!
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?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
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!
