Santa Ana, CA
ANOTHER SUNDAY’S SCATTERED CLOUDS
Another Sunday’s scattered clouds
and fifty miles to the Lancaster poppy fields—
the poppies are in bloom, but
the poppies are not the reason.
Driving into the high desert is the reason
listening to music is the reason
and afterward sitting with black coffee
and a maple bar in a Palmdale doughnut shop
where I can be alone with my ghost
for two or even three hours
and the doughnut lady won’t say a thing
because
she has a day of the week
and a place of asylum just like me.
Another Sunday’s scattered clouds
and fifty miles to the Lancaster poppy fields—
the poppies are in bloom, but
the poppies are not the reason.
Driving into the high desert is the reason
listening to music is the reason
and afterward sitting with black coffee
and a maple bar in a Palmdale doughnut shop
where I can be alone with my ghost
for two or even three hours
and the doughnut lady won’t say a thing
because
she has a day of the week
and a place of asylum just like me.
HOBO
A field of straw a foot high in the summer dirt
the heat of the day lingers here
in the windless twilight of a seaside town
of tents and newsprint
across the field all the lights of a
traveling carnival come to rest
all the moving lights
and what must be smoke
though it tastes like dust
and I know nobody there
and no one knows I’m here
A field of straw a foot high in the summer dirt
the heat of the day lingers here
in the windless twilight of a seaside town
of tents and newsprint
across the field all the lights of a
traveling carnival come to rest
all the moving lights
and what must be smoke
though it tastes like dust
and I know nobody there
and no one knows I’m here
LAMPS BURN ALL NIGHT
Lamps burn all night
in the estate sale company store
from Palm Springs to Singapore
the deceased all reached that point:
the ambivalence of last suppers
in the face of the unknown
lives well-lived
traveled to London, Paris, Bangalore
philosophized
partied all night
“A thousand square miles of fine furniture,
jewelry, movie memorabilia, and more,”
says General Manager Candy Jean, burning bright
_________________
SHE’S TAKING ECSTASY
She’s taking ecstasy and
Pushing ice
Along a stranger’s spine
The morning comes with spikes
And suspect images
In her mind:
A peacoat nightmare, a handbag
Lost on god-knows-where stairs,
A million lanterns on Broadway
Today is a sick day
An omelet and hash browns day
In a Divisadero diner
With insomniac eyes, then
An afternoon alone:
A Tom Collins on the windowsill
Of the light well:
The shady light well, the
Tranquil light well, a cabinet
With the right pharmaceuticals
Lamps burn all night
in the estate sale company store
from Palm Springs to Singapore
the deceased all reached that point:
the ambivalence of last suppers
in the face of the unknown
lives well-lived
traveled to London, Paris, Bangalore
philosophized
partied all night
“A thousand square miles of fine furniture,
jewelry, movie memorabilia, and more,”
says General Manager Candy Jean, burning bright
_________________
SHE’S TAKING ECSTASY
She’s taking ecstasy and
Pushing ice
Along a stranger’s spine
The morning comes with spikes
And suspect images
In her mind:
A peacoat nightmare, a handbag
Lost on god-knows-where stairs,
A million lanterns on Broadway
Today is a sick day
An omelet and hash browns day
In a Divisadero diner
With insomniac eyes, then
An afternoon alone:
A Tom Collins on the windowsill
Of the light well:
The shady light well, the
Tranquil light well, a cabinet
With the right pharmaceuticals
A MAN LIES AGING
A man lies aging
in his bed
his toe is black
it’s going dead
but
night air
comes through
the open window, cools
his face and lungs
and
clouds go by
quiet and low
lit from below
by the city lights
YOUR RESURRECTION
Your resurrection is complete
The vultures lie dead at your feet
In an otherwise empty field
So now what?
Are you still the same human
Dying to make a million?
Are you still the same frivolous Roman?
Or will you sit in a tree and strum a guitar?
Or hide in a library and plot against a tyrant?
Will you protest, demonstrate, crusade?
Be the savior and the saved?
Play the mensch and invite an enemy
For coffee?
And don’t trouble yourself about those birds
Their energy was conserved, and whatever
They’re doing now beats pecking
At the eyes of their fellow creatures
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
BEGINNINGS
—Douglas Richardson
People sit in crowded restaurants
pretending they don’t hear the song
but nine years later
alone in a drive-thru
they’ll hear it again
and let it all go
right there in the car
they’ll let it all go
___________________
Newcomer Douglas Richardson lives in Santa Ana, California, with his wife, Jen, and cat, Wes. His poetry has been published in The American Journal of Poetry, Anti-Heroin Chic, Black Poppy Review, Cajun Mutt Press, The Ekphrastic Review, Hobo Camp Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, The Nervous Breakdown, The New Verse News, Straight Forward Poetry, Trouvaille Review, Poetry Super Highway, and others. In 2013, he won the Poetry Super Highway contest with his entry, “Notes from the Graveyard Shift.” In these work-from-home years, he likes to watch Big Bang Theory reruns during his lunch hour. Welcome to the Kitchen, Douglas, and don’t be a stranger!
_____________________
—Medusa
Douglas Richardson
A reminder that Andru Defeye’s
First Church of Poetry meets
at noon on Sundays
during April and May in
McKinley Park, Sacramento, CA,
starting today. For info about this
and other 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.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
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!
First Church of Poetry meets
at noon on Sundays
during April and May in
McKinley Park, Sacramento, CA,
starting today. For info about this
and other 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.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
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!
Poppies are in bloom. . .
