More Quickies from Archie

TRYST
—A.R. Ammons

I'm to go see you tonight:
birds that know where to fly
are loose under my ribs:

your eyes fly here to my mind's
eye: I dwell in them:
what if I'm frozen

when I see you: what if I burn
completely up: the birds
may break out and go

too soon; or, too bad
if my self flies to you
early, and I can't follow.

_______________________

I'm to go see Jeanine Stevens tonight. What's a keeping room? This was a term that was new to this California girl until Jeanine introduced me to it, but then last week I saw it on an HGTV show. Come to Jeanine's reading tonight at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sac., 7:30 pm and find out about The Keeping Room.

The latest issue of Senior Magazine is out, with another stellar "Poetry Corner" column by Laverne Frith and Joyce Odam. This month, they talk about "Considering the Cost of Poetry", about how to save money on your poetry endeavors. (It's cheaper'n bowling, I always say!) Pick up a free copy of SM at over 800 locations, including libraries; call 916-972-7260 (X205) for a location near you.

Speaking of the Friths, the "Late 2005" issue of New York journal Medicinal Purposes, which is also their tenth anniversary issue, features our Friths as its Centerpiece Poets! There is a stunning five-page article about them, along with a nice sampling of their poetry, and even a picture!. Medicinal Purposes Literary Review, edited by Robert Dunn, is a dandy journal that you should be submitting to and subscribing to: 75-05 210th St., #6N, Bayside, NY 11364. (dunnmiracle@juno.com)

_______________________

STILL FRAME
—A.R. Ammons

The wind played
down frost-still

sunrise brings three
crows
into the nearly

empty sugar
maple, their

pitching and flapping
jarring a touch of gold leaves loose
that

sprinkles down as if
picked by a breeze.

________________________

CATCH
—A.R. Ammons

Near dusk: approaching
my house, I see
over the roof

the quartermoon
and, aiming, walk it
down my chimney flue.

______________________

NIGHT CHILL
—A.R. Ammons

My big round yew
can stand a gust
into a million
presences: too
many needles
to get through
to get through
except drift through:
birds in there peep and sleep
puffy in the slow hurry.

_______________________

Today is Sam the Snake Man Kieth's birthday: Send him greetings at ibeforee@comcast.net.

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

In Praise of Quickies

WINTER SCENE
—A.R. Ammons

There is now not a single
leaf on the cherry tree:

except when the jay
plummets in, lights, and,

in pure clarity, squalls:
then every branch

quivers and
breaks out in blue leaves.

_____________________

Poetry publications are always hungry, especially ones that appear frequently, like Joyce Odam's monthly Brevities (A Mini-Mag of Minimalist Poems). If you haven't seen this little charmer, pick one up for a buck, either from Joyce (choiceofwrds@aol.com) or at The Book Collector (1008 24th St., Sac.). Or you can send yer buck and one first-class stamp or SASE (39¢, don't forget!) to Joyce at 2432 48th Av., Sac. 95822. And send poems! The number and lines are limited, though, due to the small size, so check out an issue before you leap.

The January Brevities contains poems by Rattlechapper Elsie Feliz (Tea With Bunya), who will be reading at The Other Voice on Friday along with her husband, Don Feliz, who was the author of littlesnake broadside #12, Switchback Path. See yesterday's post for further info about the reading.


WHEN YOU'RE BROUGHT UP IN A HARBOR CITY
—Elsie Whitlow Feliz, Sacramento

Here is the thing about blue:
it has dominion. You can't

escape it. Sky and sea
smother us in blue vibration.

We are a blue planet, look
like a blue marble in distant

space. At the beach we plunge
into this great blueness, bask

and bake ourselves pink or
lobster red, smile at our blue veins.

(appeared in January 2006 Brevities)
_______________

MARATHON MADNESS
(after Dragonfly by Edna St. Vincent Millay)
—Elsie Whitlow Feliz

We find ourselves in a darkened bar, start dancing
all night long on the room's uneven floor,
measuring out our steps from one to four
counting them to the drums' mad beat. Advancing
pairs beside us—one pair drops out. We're sore,
call on an inner strength for faster dancing.

Holding ourselves upright in numbered madness,
never a thought to ending this crazy dance—
only for the money prize. With its silky chants
the music, a diamond of hard sadness.
Stepping heavy, making ourselves advance—
we fall asleep in a waltz of dizzy madness.

(appeared in January 2006 Brevities)

_____________________

TIME TRIP
—Don Feliz, Sacramento

Walking with you in your
old neighborhood is like
turning back to twenty one.

I waited for the local bus
by the condemned baseball
park and the Double Play bar,

engulfed in aroma from bread
factories and the commotion
of commerce at that corner.

The small bus climbed to this
hilltop where we watch stars
and walk again after forty years.

(appeared in Poets' Forum Magazine, Summer 2005)

_______________________________

SUMMER SWING
—Don Feliz, Sacramento

Danny Boy and Perfidia
get In the Mood to dance
to Juke Box Saturday Night.

Sharing his Little Brown Jug
they catch the next
Chattanooga Choo Choo

to Tuxedo Junction where
the American Patrol plays
Moonlight Serenade and

Star Dust all night long
until her String of Pearls
swings to Sunrise Serenade.

(appeared in Rattlesnake Review #2)

_______________________

Thanks, Don and Elsie, for the quickies! Elsie also alerts me to today's Bizarro, the comic strip in The Sacramento Bee, about Medusa.

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

Buffaloes, Spiders, Fly-Ghosts & This Week's Events

THE FLOWER-FED BUFFALOES
—Vachel Lindsay

The flower-fed buffaloes of the spring
In the days of long ago,
Ranged where the locomotives sing
And the prairie flowers lie low;
The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass
Is swept away by wheat,
Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by
In the spring that still is sweet.
But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring
Left us long ago.
They gore no more, they bellow no more,
They trundle around the hills no more;—
With the Blackfeet lying low,
With the Pawnees lying low.

________________________

Here's are (most) of the area poetry happenings for this week. Lemme know if there are more:

•••Tonight (1/9) Sacramento Poetry Center presents Terry Moore at HQ, 25th & R Sts., Sac, 7:30 pm. Terry is a huge contributor to the Sac. poetry scene, both with his own prize-winning poetry, and with all the events he sponsors. Do remember, though, to bundle up—HQ can be chilly this time of year!

•••Jeanine Stevens will celebrate the release of her chapbook, The Keeping Room, from Rattlesnake Press next Wednesday, January 11, at 7:30 pm at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento. Refreshments and a read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else’s. Free. Info: 442-9295.

•••Asst. Wrangler Robbie Grossklaus has the next issue of VYPER, our journal of poetry from youngsters 13-19, almost ready to go; it'll premiere at Jeanine Stevens' reading at The Book Collector on January 11.

•••Also Weds. (1/11): Mahogany Urban Poetry Series, 9 pm, Sweet Fingers Jamaican Restaurant, 1704 Broadway, Sac., $5 cover. Info: 492-9336.

•••Thursday (1/12): Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sac. 8 pm.; Poetic Light Open Mic, 8-10pm at the Personal Style Salon, 2540 Cottage Way, Sac., Info: 470-2317; Evening of Poetry, 7 pm, Gwen's Caribbean Cuisine, 2355 Arden Way, Sac. Info: 284-7831.

•••Friday the 13th: The Other Voice presents Snake Pals Elsie and Don Feliz at the Davis Unitarian Church Library, 27074 Patwin Rd., Davis, 7:30 pm. Info: 530-753-2634.

•••Saturday (1/14): Poems-For-All presents David Larsen, Lauren Gudath, Sean Finney & David Hayward at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sac., 8 pm. Free; also free mini-books. Info: 442-9295. Earlier that day: Patricity in Spirit in Truth Open Mic at Queen Sheba's restaurant, 1537 Howe Av., Sac., 3-5 pm. Info: 920-1020.

•••Sunday (1/15) the Third Sunday Writing Group meets from 1-3 pm. Info re: location: eskimopi@jps.net.

•••Also Sunday: Poets Cleo Kocol of Roseville and John Doyle from Chico will be the featured poets at a Special Event sponsored by the Lincoln Library and Lincoln Arts Poetry Open Mic, 3-5 pm at the Scout Hall (behind the Lincoln Library) in Lincoln. Free to the public.

___________________

THE SPIDER AND THE GHOST OF THE FLY
—Vachel Lindsay

Once I loved a spider
When I was born a fly,
A velvet-footed spider
With a gown of rainbow-dye.
She ate my wings and gloated.
She bound me with a hair.
She drove me to her parlor
Above her winding stair.
To educate young spiders
She took me all apart.
My ghost came back to haunt her.
I saw her eat my heart.

___________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

Doom is Like the Handle of a Pot

HA HA HA HA HA, HA HA
—Charles Bukowski

monkey feet
small and blue
walking toward you
as the back of a building falls off
and an airplane chews the white sky,
doom is like the handle of a pot,
it's there,
know it,
have ice in your tea,
marry,
have children, visit your
dentist,
do not scream at night
even if you feel like screaming,
count ten
make love to your wife
or if your wife isn't there
if there isn't anybody there
count 20,
get up and walk to the kitchen
if you have a kitchen
and sit there sweating
at 3 a.m. in the morning
monkey feet
small and blue
walking toward you.

_____________________

THE LOSER
—Charles Bukowski

and the next I remembered I'm on a table,
everybody's gone: the head of bravery
under light, scowling, flailing me down...
and then some toad stood there, smoking a cigar:
and I got up and knocked him over a chair;
it was like a scene in a movie, and
he stayed there on his big rump and said
over and over: "Jesus, Jesus, whatsamatta wit
you?" and I got up and dressed,
the tape still on my hands, and when I got home
I tore the tape off my hands and
wrote my first poem,
and I've been fighting
ever since...

_______________________

IF WE TAKE—
—Charles Bukowski

if we take what we can see—
the engines driving us mad,
lovers finally hating;
this fish in the market
staring upward into our minds;
flowers rotting, flies web-caught;
riots, roars of caged lions,
clowns in love with dollar bills,
nations moving people like pawns;
daylight thieves with beautiful
nighttime wives and wines;
the crowded jails,
the commonplace unemployed,
dying grass, 2-bit fires;
men old enough to love the grave.

These things, and others, in content
show life swinging on a rotten axis.

But they've left us a bit of music
and a spiked show in the corner,
a jigger of scotch, a blue necktie,
a small volume of poems by Rimbaud,
a horse running as if the devil were
twisting his tail
over bluegrass and screaming, and then,
love again
like a streetcar turning the corner
on time,
the city waiting,
the wine and the flowers,
the water walking across the lake
and summer and winter and summer and summer
and winter again.

________________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

A Night of Dark Intent

ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT
—Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

_______________________

Colette Jonopulos of Tiger's Eye: A Journal of Poetry writes: We are printing Songs of Love by Robert Schuler on Valentine's Day (or thereabouts) and would like to give a few copies away. We'll choose three of your poems about love. Preferably the non-sappy type. It can be about your dog (or bird) or your favorite television show. Or about the love of your life, for those who have such things. Send your poems to tigerseyetracks@yahoo.com by the 14th of February.

Debra J. Harmes-Kurth, Owner/Editor of Art With Words writes: I am working on getting a tribute together for the families of the 12 miners lost in the Sago mine explosion in my home state of West Virginia. I am currently accepting submissions. All submissions must include name, address, telephone number and email. Poems or prose accepted, writers must keep in mind this is for the families....first. (djharmeskurth@hotmail.com)

Cleo Griffith writes: Hi Poets...I want to urge you all to continue to submit to Song of the San Joaquin. If you have any questions, please e-mail me: ssjq03psj@yahoo.com. Also, a call for submissions from BlackWidows' Web of Poetry. No e-mail submissions, but questions may be sent to Janine Margiotta, sunris2set@aol.com. She wants poems of 3-30 lines, line count on the top corner of the page, up to five poems per submission, a "personal" bio, not just a list of credits, SASE (!!!—don't forget), no special theme. Send to Janine Margiotta, Editor and Publisher, BlackWidow's Web, 87788 Blek Dr., Veneta, OR 97487. Her website: http://www.geocities.com/blackwidowswebofpoetry1/BlackWidowsMagazine.index.html
(Medusa did not see any deadlines on either of these submissions, so you'll have to check that out yourself...)

Poet Cleo Kocol of Roseville and John Doyle from Chico will be the featured poets at a Special Event sponsored by the Lincoln Library and Lincoln Arts Poetry Open Mic, Sunday, January 15, 3-5 pm at the Scout Hall (behind the Lincoln Library) in Lincoln. Free to the public.

Don't forget the memorial for Sacramento Poet Anatole Lubovich which will be held tomorrow (Sunday, 1/8) at HQ For the Arts, 25th & R Streets, Sac. at 2 pm. Then tomorrow evening, Poemspirits features Brad Buchanan at the Unitarian Universalist Society of Sacramento, 2425 Sierra Blvd., Sac., 6 pm (classrooms in the back). Refreshments, open mic, and Nora Staklis will do a brief presentation on Basho. Info: 916-481-3312. Or head over to Stockton: Poet's Corner Presents Eileen Malone, Barnes & Noble in Weberstown Mall, 7 pm. Info: 209-951-7014.

And Monday (1/9), Sacramento Poetry Center presents Terry Moore at HQ, 25th & R Sts., Sac, 7:30 pm. Terry is a huge contributor to the Sac. poetry scene, both with his own prize-winning poetry, and with all the events he sponsors. Do remember, though, to bundle up—HQ can be chilly this time of year!


ONCE BY THE PACIFIC
—Robert Frost

The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God's last Put out the Light was spoken.

___________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

As the Dark Wheat Listens

JANUARY BLEAKNESS
—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento

It's a storming rain on the second day of the new year
such a pain to take down now the house Christmas lights
although they socked up the electric bill
they seemed to bring such excitement cheer
that now seems nowhere near
as the weather reminds me emotionally
that I have spared nothing for after December
And the football games on the television
just doesn't make me forget
the despair of the tax return

_______________________

Thanks, Michelle (you got THAT right...)! Michelle says she's working at the Hornet Bookstore now at CSUS; stop by and say hi.

JoAnn Anglin writes: To lose yourself in a beatific picture of poets, find the January 06 issue of Sacramento Magazine. Turn to page 23, the photograph of Straight Out Scribes. Elegant. Earthy. Rich. Gorgeous. [You’ll come up with your own adjectives!]

The Scribes, VS Chochezi and her equally-talented mother, Stajaabu, are a Sacramento treasure. Google up Straight Out Scribes for a schedule of where they will be reading, and when. (VS has a poem in the latest Snake.)

Jeanine Stevens will celebrate the release of her chapbook, The Keeping Room, from Rattlesnake Press next Wednesday, January 11, at 7:30 pm at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento. Refreshments and a read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else’s. Free. Info: 442-9295. Herewith is a yummy sample:


SEA GULLS IN BATH
—Jeanine Stevens, Sacramento

At Aquae Sulis, Roman generals hold silent court.
Green waters barely ripple old melodies on lute strings.

August heat demands open windows, eight sleepless
hours traded for a few brief breezes. Herring gulls

perch on every sill: gold-rimmed lids, light yellow
irises like tiny spinning suns—gawk as if humans

had just arrived in England. They rampage
ear-creasing, high-pitched squawks—kyow and hyah,

doubling longer notes far beyond measured decibels.
Bird noise seems to taunt moonlit statues. The silver

spires of Bath Abbey dwarf the largest commander
who gazes inward, melting dreams in submerged pools,

so far from home. Across the River Avon, a stone
labyrinth—worm trails and hexagons slither and gleam.

__________________________

Thanks, Jeanine!

Do you subscribe to the free e-calendar, Poet's Lane? Pleasanton Poet Laureate Cynthia Bryant will send you continual (several a day!) notices of Northern California poetry happenings (events, deadlines, releases, workshops, etc.). She writes: I have just added another new page on Poet’s Lane website for 2006-New Year Poems, so if you have written one and would like to have it included, send it my way with your picture, name and any thing such as email or webpage to add: cynthia.bryant@comcast.net.

Complete info: Poet's Lane, The Literary List, Cynthia L. Bryant, PoetsLane@comcast.net, www.poetslane.com, 925-398-8846. Most of the events posted are for the Bay Area, which you may or may not find useful, but Cynthia posts other items, too, such as the following:

2006 San Francisco Writers Conference
Feb. 17 thru 19 (President's Day weekend)
Mark Hopkins Hotel

Poetry faculty includes Brad Henderson (UC Davis) and Andy Jones (host of the "Dr. Andy’s Poetry and Technology Hour" radio show, Wednesdays at 5pm, on KDVS-90.3 FM). They will present a session, "Putting Poetry into Your Prose" and host the Open Mic Poetry Readings on Friday and Saturday night during the conference. For more information about the conference, go to www.sfwriters.org or call Elizabeth Pomada at 866-862-7392.

_______________________

BEGINNING
—James Wright

The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.

_______________________

—Medoosa (or is it Med-you-sa?)

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

Open Circles

HAPPY (oh, sex) NEW YEAR, 06
—Ann Privateer, Davis

After the wind, after the rain
mistletoe peppers the sidewalk.
Insects kiss, cart it away
to party again next year.

_____________________

Thanks, Ann! May we all be around to party next year.

Yesterday's Sacramento Bee published an article (Scene section) on Les Birleson's artwork which has recently been installed at the majestic City Sump #2 at Riverside Blvd. and 11th Avenue, in the Land Park area of Sacramento, near the newly-restored Congregation B'nai Israel. The temple was seriously damaged in the firebombings of 1999, and as part of its restoration, the city of Sacramento has commissioned a granite sculpture called "Open Circle", with the goal of fostering tolerance and understanding. Les Birleson's massive piece includes poetry by local poets Jose Montoya, Julia Connor, Jennifer Pickering, Mary Catherine Rice, Patrick Pfister, Viola Weinberg, and spiralchapper Pearl Stein Selinsky, in addition to newcomer and aspiring poet Bloom. The poems have been sand-blasted on colored glass, then arranged like spokes in a wheel. Pearl notifies us that there will be a dedication; more about that later.


PEACE
—Gerard Manley Hopkins

When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut,
Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs?
When, when, Peace, will you, Peace?—I'll not play hypocrite

To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but
That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows
Alarms of wars, the daunting, wars, the death of it?

O surely, reaving Peace, my Lord should leave in lieu
Some good! And so he does leave Patience exquisite,
That plumes to Peace thereafter. And when Peace here does house
He come with work to do, he does not come to coo,
He comes to brood and sit.

_________________________

Frith Press, which produces the beautiful and prestigious Ekphrasis in addition to selected chapbooks, announces the release of Fainting at the Uffizi, a new collection from North Carolina poet Joanna Catherine Scott. This beautifully produced new volume is available from the Friths at P.O. Box 161236, Sac. 95816-1236. Info: www.hometown.aol.com/ekphrasis1. Oh—and tomorrow (1/6) is the Friths' wedding anniversary!

_________________________

THE THINKER
—William Carlos Williams

My wife's new pink slippers
have gay pom-poms.
There is not a spot or a stain
on their satin toes or their sides.
All night they lie together
under her bed's edge.
Shivering I catch sight of them
and smile, in the morning.
Later I watch them
descending the stair,
hurrying through the doors
and round the table,
moving stiffly
with a shake of their gay pom-poms!
And I talk to them
in my secret mind
out of pure happiness.

_______________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)