Midwinter Moonshine

—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Jeanine Stevens,
Stephen Kingsnorth,
Caschwa (Carl Schwartz), and Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy
of Joe Nolan

 

 

NIGHTLIGHT
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

Midwinter moonlight brings chills to my sleep.
The moon casts deep shadows of trees dancing windy.
The snow sparkles diamonds and deep-freeze harsh glare.
I close all the curtains and turn on my nightlight
so I can sleep safely in comforter downy.

 

 

 

Climbing the Frozen Waterfall

A NARROW MARGIN OF COLOR
—Jeanine Stevens, Sacramento, CA

1.
It’s autumn, time for the Kokanee to spawn. Walking up Taylor Creek from the lake, we follow the flash of carnelian in clear water. They struggle in shallows, the small heart spinning, the red gills heaving. The entire body is flushed with red, the head, reptilian and olive green. We learn the hooked jaw is useful in mating, a part of sexual selection for females. The stream is choked with color as they complete their life cycle in a blaze of fire. You take a photo that resembles a banner of velvet ribbons, and I remember the Celtic saying, “A woman who wears a salmon tattoo on her ankle can travel anywhere.”

2.
On December 31st, we stay up past midnight to see the “blue moon.” In white star-scented air, it is surrounded by a large ring: translucent, ocular fuzz, a barely-there-blue. A glacial spectrum, I think moongarten, and know night holds this landscape. Next day, we snowshoe in the meadow, the sun so bright; we make a quick stop to rest our eyes. There in deep shade, a neon blue that disappears in bright sun. You say, “It’s the water content that makes crystals seem electrified, a filament lit from within.” We stomp around trees, in and out of light, testing our perception, such a narrow margin of color absorbed. I’ve seen the sign above small taverns, a martini glass with an olive, just-that-blue, and on paint chips: Feather Falls, June Lake and Carthage, but the closest I come is Chagall’s pencil writing the sky over Vitebsk.   

                                                                                 —South Lake Tahoe, January 1, 2010                                    

                                                                        

 

 

MOONSHINE PHASE?
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

Gone, silver slivers, summer streak,
as spring from passing autumn clouds;
more shivers from clear frosting sky,
spread spangled starlight, galaxy.
It’s rare, but I, spread-eagled lawn,
have lain, awaiting meteors,
a shower predicted, peak that hour,
rewarded flash, some, tail to tell.

As eyes adjust to blacker depth
I sense mine insignificance
and wonder that more frequent act
replaced by comfort of my bed;
but nomads’ wander, desert dunes
and shepherds keeping watch at night,
as mariners, crow’s nest and deck,
or country folk, far city brights.

Yet winter wonder, land behold,
insisting Green from northern light,
while snowflakes fall in Florida;
as if the climate uncontrolled,
accord to share global concern
no longer offered with the world.
No longer ‘who’—but what will last—
from over pond, phase, icy blast? 

 

 

 

 Cooling Off

COMPETITION
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

middle of winter
middle of town
middle of the night
middle of my route

patient moon overlooks
two all-night coffee shops
all three compete for eyes
I stop for pie and coffee

black, no cream, no sugar
hot, steamy, ceramic mug
waitress pours herself a cup
and we chat, small talk

middle of her shift
middle of a relationship
middle of two choices
apple, or berry?

 

 

 

 Roof Leak—Frozen

LIKE BABYSITTING GERMS
—Caschwa

(in response to recent Seeds of the Week
in Medusa’s Kitchen: “Out of Control”  
and “Winds of Warning”)

trying to regulate one’s sugar level
when usually guessing how high or
low it is, is a task like babysitting germs

so many variables! careful to avoid
excess sugar, then receive a high reading;
equally careful to avoid low sugar, then
that doesn’t work either

food, drink, sleep, exercise, pills, insulin,
abstinence, checking with a meter, consulting
with a doctor online, asking ghosts for their
wisdom, it is all hit and miss, nothing for
sure

too low and you die, too high and you live
to hear endless lectures on maintaining a
proper sugar level

 

 

 

 

 

THIS N’ THAT
—Caschwa

 

(in response to a recent Seed of the Week,
"In nature there is darkness as well as light, 

and all shades in between")

sticks and stones
may break my bones
but I’ll take big bites
out of cheese sticks

*****

Boxer briefs
(name any dog breed briefs)
Dog wood
(any and all timber)
Chimney sweep
(getting all the presents left by Santa)
DOGE
(Dept. of Genital Exuberance)

*****

I’m not prejudiced.
(foreign food is a regular on my menu)

 

 

 

A MENSCH AMONG MANY
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

There was a little window
With a window-pane
Covered with a curtain
Through which the
Breeze would blow.

How the curtain was moving
Would let me know
If I should stay or go
Out for my morning-daily,
A paper from a stand,
A coffee from a kiosk,
Be among
My fellow man—
Just a mensch
Among many,
Walking down the street.

Maybe I might find someone
I would like to meet?

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.

—Allen Ginsberg

____________________

Our thanks to today’s mensch-poets for fine fare in the Kitchen! Our Seed of the Week, which some of them played with, was Midwinter Moonlight. Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.

Congrats to Jeanine Stevens for her new book, Left Handed Hummingbird, from claresongbirdspub.com/! Another Sacramento poet with a new book is Shawn Pittard and his Witness, which Shawn will be celebrating tonight at Sacramento Poetry Center. Both Jeanine and Shawn are SnakePals who had books published by Medusa's Rattlesnake Press back in the day.

Would you like to be a SnakePal? Sending in some poetry—aye, there's the ticket! Guidelines are at the top of this page at the Placating the Gorgon link. The snakes of Medusa are always... well, you know...

 

 

 

—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A reminder that
Sacramento Poetry Center features
Shawn Pittard tonight, 7:30pm.
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