The Gauger of All Things

Ghost ship off the coast of Maine
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis

PASSENGER
—Marie J. Ross and Donald R. Anderson, Stockton

White sails in the wind sweeping the atmosphere like a newborn,
a fin emerges, sliding across calm ripples, a spouting spray of wet air, blue whale.
He flips to eat the tide, lifts high too reach the movement of sky.
Sails turn to follow, cameras ready, excited new passenger an experienced
sailor.
Visions sculpt the shore line, beach umbrellas, bouncing balls, and luxurious
hotels, Monte Carlo Style, warm on blankets sipping salty drinks. Song transcends
the moment in dance of the night—so soon that a newborne’s tiny feet shuffle on manuscripts of timely notes.

__________________

Thanks, Don and Marie! Donald Anderson and Marie Ross teamed up again for another poem. See more of their poems in Snake 19, due out in mid-September.

Thanks also to Katy Brown for this photo taken on her recent moose-hunting trip (with camera) to Maine. Watch for more of Katy's photos and prompts in September, with the release of another of her blank journals, Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions. I understand chocolate will be prominent...


This weekend in NorCal poetry:

•••Sunday (8/24), Noon to 4 PM: Poetry in the Trees in San Francisco. Picnic and poetry reading at the Jerry Garcia amphitheater. For detailed information and a photo of the amphitheater, go to clarahsu.com/hotel.html/ or contact Clara Hsu, 301 Gambier St., San Francisco, CA 94134-1341, tel: 415-244-1317, http://www.clarahsu.com/. This year they will be featuring four Bay Area Poet Laureates: Albert Flynn DeSilver of Marin, Penelope La Montagne of Healdsburg, Martha Meltzer of Pleasanton, and Connie Post of Livermore, as well as open mic before and after the featured readers.

•••Monday (8/25), 7:30 PM: Sacramento Poetry Center presents Ann Keniston and June Saraceno at HQ for the Arts, 25th & R Sts., Sacramento. Refreshments; free; open mic to follow. Ann Keniston’s first poetry collection, The Caution of Human Gestures, was published in 2005 by David Robert Books; recent poems have appeared in Michigan Quarterly Review, Interim, Southwest Review, North American Review, and elsewhere. Twice a recipient of the Academy of American Poets Prize, she has received grants from the Somerville (MA) Arts Council, the Sierra Arts Foundation (NV), and the Nevada Arts Council; she is also a scholar of contemporary American poetry. A past resident of Somerville, Massachusetts, she now lives in Reno, Nevada, where she is assistant professor of English at the University of Nevada-Reno.

June Sylvester Saraceno is originally from Elizabeth City, North Carolina. She received a BA from East Carolina University and an MFA in creative writing from Bowling Green State University in Ohio. Her work has appeared in various journals including California Quarterly, Ginosko, The Pedestal, Poetry Motel, The Rebel, Silk Road, Smartish Pace, Sunspinner, Tar River Poetry and The Village Rambler; as well as two anthologies: Intimate Kisses: the poetry of sexual pleasure and Passionate Hearts: the poetry of sexual love, now in a second printing. Her chapbook, Mean Girl Trips, was published fall 2006 by Pudding House Press. Her first full length collection of poetry, Altars of Ordinary Light, was released by Plain View Press in 2007. She is currently English Program Chair at Sierra Nevada College, Lake Tahoe and founding editor of the Sierra Nevada College Review. She lives with her husband, Anthony Saraceno, and son, Dylan Victor, in Truckee, California.

__________________

STORM AT LOW TIDE
—William Everson

A storm at low tide is like the dark night of the soul.
All the surface surge comes shattering in,
Impelled by a sixty-mile-an-hour gale
And something violent far out to sea
Menacing more. But the outgoing suck
Is relentless, and will not yield.
Caught between wind and moon
The water stands up to the beach going every which way
But perpendicularly contained in the inexorable tension,
A quivering wall poised to plunge,
And frighteningly twitching its skin like a demented horse,
Only to topple and collapse as if something utterly trivial

had tripped it,

Scattering its myriad particles and fragments
In the ultimate exasperation of purposeless dispersion.
I walk along the tortured ribbon of foam that traces the violent nadir,
Reflecting how I too was torn so, knowing this rage of resistance,
This exasperate, desperate madness, this inexpressible
Chaotic lust.

__________________

THE GASH
—William Everson

To covet and resist for years, and then
To succumb, is a fearsome thing. All you craved and denied
At last possesses you. You give yourself
Wholly to its power; and its presence,
Invading your soul, stupefies
With its solace and its terror.

There is nothing so humbling as acceptance.

I sense the mushrooms in the night,
Tearing their way up through loose soil,
Brutal as all birth.

And I bend my head,

And cup my mouth on the gash of everything I craved,
And am ravaged with joy.

__________________

THE GAUGE
—William Everson

Time is the gauger of all things,
And the solver of all things.

Wrapped in its breast
The nature of consequence
Peaks and divulges.

Only in consequence
Is implication verified.

Only in time
Is implication, consequence,
Actualized.

In my span of existence
I touch with new hands
Its wake of passage.

Out of its belly,
Time's opulent womb,
The nature of the actual
Quickens, is born.

Susanna, I hear your body
Turn in the dusk; the great
Languor of life
Broods on the shadowy lids of your eyes,
Where you sigh,
Where you sleep.

Howler of gulfs and sunken undredgable deeps,
Time flows, curls over your body, as a wave
Cups stone on the bench of this sea,
And restores me, the God-blunted man,
To my measure.

__________________

SEED
—William Everson

Some seed in me,
Some troublous birth,
Like an awkward awakening,
Stirs into life.

Terrible and instinctive
It touches my guts.

I fear and resist it,
Crouch down on my norms, a man's
Patent assurances.

I do not know its nature.
I have no term for it.
I cannot see its shape.

But there, inscrutable,
Just underground,
Is the long-avoided latency.

Like the mushrooms in the oakwood,
Where the high-sloped mountain
Benches the sea,

When the faint rains of November
Damp down the duff,
Wakening their spores—

Like them,
Gross, thick and compelling,
What I fear and desire
Pokes up its head.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

All my major works have been written in prison... I would recommend prison not only to aspiring writers but to aspiring politicians, too.

—Jawaharlal Nehru

__________________

—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's Up With Rattlesnake Press

The Snake will be snoozing through July and August, leaving Medusa to carry on alone. Then on September 10, we shall burst back onto the scene with Thirteen Poems, a new chapbook from Patrick Grizzell; #2 in Katy Brown's series of blank journals (Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions); a littlesnake broadside (Wind Physics) from Jordan Reynolds; plus Issue #19 of Rattlesnake Review (deadline is August 15). Meanwhile, look in on Medusa every day, and, for heaven's sake, keep sending stuff! The snakes of Medusa are always hungry...


Medusa's Weekly Menu:

(Contributors are welcome to cook up something for any and all of these!)

Monday: Weekly NorCal poetry calendar

Tuesday: Seed of the Week: Tuesday is Medusa's day to post poetry triggers such as quotes, forms, photos, memories, jokes—whatever might tickle somebody's muse. Pick up the gauntlet and send in your poetic results; and don't be shy about sending in your own triggers, too! All poems will be posted and a few of them will go into Medusa's Corner of each Rattlesnake Review. Send your work to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline for SOW; respond today, tomorrow, or whenever the muse arrives. (Print 'em out, maybe, save 'em for a dry spell?) When you send us work, though, just let us know which "seed" it was that inspired you.

Wednesday (sometimes): HandyStuff Quickies: Resources for the poet, including whatever helps ease the pain of writing and/or publishing: favorite journals to read and/or submit to; books, etc., about writing; organizational tools—you know—HandyStuff! Tell us about your favorite tools.

Thursday: B.L.'s Drive-Bys: Micro-reviews by our irreverent Reviewer-in-Residence, B.L. Kennedy. Send books, CDs, DVDs, etc. to him for possible review (either as a Drive-By or in future issues of Rattlesnake Review) at P.O. Box 160664, Sacramento, CA 95816.

Friday: NorCal weekend poetry calendar

Daily (except Sunday): LittleNips: SnakeFood for the Poetic Soul: Daily munchables for poetic thought, including short paragraphs, quotes, wonky words, silliness, little-known poetry/poet facts, and other inspiration—yet another way to feed our ravenous poetic souls.

And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far and in-between! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!

_________________

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

Still Dreaming Over That Which Got Away

NUDE RECLINING AT WORD
PROCESSOR, IN PASTEL
—Carl Conover

She carefully regards her software. The amber
light pulses along her thighs as she searches
in vast undocumented libraries, without rotundas,
for the mere appearance of desire, catalogued
long ago, now concealed with her archives.
These are the old landscapes of her sighs.
She ties a carbon ribbon in her hair and dreams,
longing for the missing text and the hard copy.

__________________

PAST LOVE
—Anne Keiter

I've come back
to these same old rooms
where the smell of new paint
and the rub of soft carpet
drown me
with memories of you.
Without even trying
I feel your touch,
warm artist's hand,
against my brown skin;
and without looking
I find your eyes
and that small half smile
that could win my heart.

You're my vagabond,
you're my lover,
and I see your face
through misty Sunday rains,
and I catch your eye
in the silver reflection
of my wine goblet.

__________________

BRIEF ENCOUNTER
—Winfield Townley Scott

What I had never imagined: your return
In the guise of an actual girl: and there
She stood so slender in the summer light
And leaned—in such a way—the light came through
Her thin white shirt and silhouetted her
So I was shaken with remembering
And silent with impossible desire.
O I so heavy with years and all I knew,
All that she could not know—she was not you—
Yet shared (I thought) that vibrancy of silence,
Then walked to me and touched me, as if she knew
Something neither of us would ever say.

__________________

DANCER
—Roy Scheele

How can it be,
she wonders, her heart
goes out to it still,
the single tree out back?
Its apples never came
to much; nevertheless
it goes on bearing,
if only to sweeten the grass.

Some days it's been
a comfort to her.
A mist of buds in spring,
and then the long-drawn
whitening, the petals
poured full of light
much in the way the dancers' skirts
dazzle the eyes
in Degas' paintings.
A dancer, yes: she sees
herself, long-legged girl
of long ago, her skin as pale
as apple flesh, whirling
around in the yard,
making her long dress swirl.

_________________

B.L.'s Drive-Bys: A Micro-Review by B.L. Kennedy

Love About Love
Poems by C.K. Williams
160pp, Trade-Paper, $16
Ausable Press

Back in the day, when I was a student at CSU, Sacramento, my teacher, Dennis Schmitz, introduced me to the work of the poet C.K. Williams, and it’s been a love affair with the poet and his work ever since. So I’ll put this simply: buy this book and anything else that you can find by C.K. Williams!

___________________

BACK FROM THE WORD
PROCESSING COURSE, I SAY TO MY
OLD TYPEWRITER
—Michael Blumenthal

Old friend, you
who were once in the avant-garde,
you of the thick cord
and the battered plug,
the slow and deliberate characters
proportionally spaced, shall we
go on together as before?
Shall we remain married
out of the cold dittos of conviction
and habit? Or should we move on
to some new technology of ease
and embellishment—Should I run off
with her, so much like you when
you were young, my aged Puella
of the battered keys, so lovely
in that bleached light of the first morning?

Old horse,
what will it be like
when the nexst young filly
comes along? How will I love you,
crate of my practiced strokes,
when she cries out: new new
and asks me to dance again?

O plow for now, old boat,
through these familiar waters,
make the tides come in
once more! Concubined love,
take me again into your easy arms,
make this page wild once more
like a lustful sheet! Be wet,
sweet toy, with your old ink:
vibrate those aging hips again
beneath these trembling hands.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

In youth we dream of death,
In age we dream of life.

(from "Hardy Perennial" by Richard Eberhart)

__________________

—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's Up With Rattlesnake Press

The Snake will be snoozing through July and August, leaving Medusa to carry on alone. Then on September 10, we shall burst back onto the scene with Thirteen Poems, a new chapbook from Patrick Grizzell; #2 in Katy Brown's series of blank journals (Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions); a littlesnake broadside (Wind Physics) from Jordan Reynolds; plus Issue #19 of Rattlesnake Review (deadline is August 15). Meanwhile, look in on Medusa every day, and, for heaven's sake, keep sending stuff! The snakes of Medusa are always hungry...


Medusa's Weekly Menu:

(Contributors are welcome to cook up something for any and all of these!)

Monday: Weekly NorCal poetry calendar

Tuesday: Seed of the Week: Tuesday is Medusa's day to post poetry triggers such as quotes, forms, photos, memories, jokes—whatever might tickle somebody's muse. Pick up the gauntlet and send in your poetic results; and don't be shy about sending in your own triggers, too! All poems will be posted and a few of them will go into Medusa's Corner of each Rattlesnake Review. Send your work to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline for SOW; respond today, tomorrow, or whenever the muse arrives. (Print 'em out, maybe, save 'em for a dry spell?) When you send us work, though, just let us know which "seed" it was that inspired you.

Wednesday (sometimes): HandyStuff Quickies: Resources for the poet, including whatever helps ease the pain of writing and/or publishing: favorite journals to read and/or submit to; books, etc., about writing; organizational tools—you know—HandyStuff! Tell us about your favorite tools.

Thursday: B.L.'s Drive-Bys: Micro-reviews by our irreverent Reviewer-in-Residence, B.L. Kennedy. Send books, CDs, DVDs, etc. to him for possible review (either as a Drive-By or in future issues of Rattlesnake Review) at P.O. Box 160664, Sacramento, CA 95816.

Friday: NorCal weekend poetry calendar

Daily (except Sunday): LittleNips: SnakeFood for the Poetic Soul: Daily munchables for poetic thought, including short paragraphs, quotes, wonky words, silliness, little-known poetry/poet facts, and other inspiration—yet another way to feed our ravenous poetic souls.

And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far and in-between! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!

_________________

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

Getting Away—And Coming Back

Don Feliz

THE WEDDING PLAYER
—Don Feliz, Sacramento

A tall man in a new suit carries a box like an
elongated attaché case into the decorated room.

He chats with the hosts, ignoring the others,
then opens his keyboard case and gets a chair.

The room brightens with Pachelbel’s Canon in D
as the guests gather, Wagner’s Bridal Chorus

paces the engaged couple through the room
to face the justice of the peace. The music stops.

The new couple joins their friends for cake.
The tall man plays lively video game themes.

__________________

Thanks, Don! Don Feliz was born in Santa Rosa and grew up in Fresno and Bay Area counties. He served in the US Army, Berlin Brigade, when the Wall was built. He has lived in Sacramento since 1968 and started writing poetry in 1995. Don is a member of California Federation of Chaparral Poets, Inc. and the Sacramento Poetry Center. He has been published in Brevities, Medusa’s Kitchen, Poet’s Forum Magazine, Rattlesnake Review, and The Gathering (the Ina Coolbrith Circle Poetry Anthology, 2005 and 2007) and has won numerous prizes for his poetry.

In 2005, Don authored a littlesnake broadside for Rattlenake Press entitled Switchback Path. He and his wife, Elsie Whitlow Feliz, were co-editors of the first three annual Free Wheeling chapbooks for the Towe Auto Museum, and in 2008 they co-authored their chapbook, To Berlin With Love, from Rattlesnake Press, based on their Berlin experiences. To Berlin with Love and Switchback Path are available at The Book Collector or online at rattlesnakepress.com/. Don is retired; he and Elsie have two grown daughters and are active in the Sacramento poetry community. They are both frequent contributors to Rattlesnake Review; watch for their poetry in the next issue, due out in mid-September.

__________________

FIVE DRESSES

from one bolt
of black silk:
empty sleeves,
padded shoulders,

hems cross the floor,
wind around
the next skirt,
collars graze
the ceiling,

a row of shades
trying to open
a door into
the darker night


—Don Feliz

__________________

LUNCHTIME FOR SENIORS, 1954
—Don Feliz

A dozen sports stars show off block letters
for football, swimming, track, and tennis.

They laugh and joke about sports, classes,
girls, school dances and graduating at last.

Big wheels in government, honor students,
scholarship winners, their futures assured.

They make room for friends to share the bench
where only seniors can sit—brothers for a year.

__________________

LIKE STARTLE
—Tom Goff, Carmichael

It starts like startle,
in mental star thistle,
the obsessive hiss,
the pugilist’s flinch,
though the whistleby fist
is only a purple finch
out of the bristle, the
raspberry bramble.

For me, when the voice
in my head in the men’s room
stall threatens to squall,
building thunderhead force
like the soprano’s head tone
or chest voice in Elektra,

and compulsion rushes me,
prodding me towards obscenities
I longed and dreaded
to hurl in church as a child,
or here, with mirror-shattering
force, at the college, to blood
the knuckled fist amidst
a brownout, a brain mist,

I pull back, hoping these
urges and surges to overboard
will sink, drain down into the sink;
take courage as a cornered one will,

in recollections, re-collections,
of self and dearest other
in the darkened park, where,
just last Friday, under a moonful,
a moonspell, great blue herons
described great grays, great blacks
over the umber pebbles;
where a brace of owls
flapped up alarmed from
scraps they’d begun to divide;
where beavers traced
arcs and circles in the soft river
like aerial photos of aircraft carriers;

and, in the camera in my wife’s hands,
the round thick yellow moon
yielded elastic swoop-shapes we must call
moonbends. Then, it was over,
as we parted the blackberries,
seeing the skunks reclaim dominion,

and came home to a safe place, safe
till the work resumed,
till the jangled head-voices
gonged down on paving-stones,
little iron portcullises,
around their own tolling clangor.

The one that (hopefully) got away...

Thanks, Tom! Tom Goff was responding to last week's Seed of the Week: "It all started..." And here is Taylor Graham's response to this week's SOW: The One That Got Away:


ON THE PLATFORM
—Taylor Graham, Somerset

Bitter-melon on the tongue.
Wave as if at random
at the train that’s leaving.
Is she looking back,
who’s bound away?

A study-year abroad looks great
on resumés. But
a California girl returns,
of course, to swales of poppies
opening their golden cups
in sunlight—scenes
she tried her best in German
to describe.

She never promised
anything, in any language, spring
to fall. No pledge of Treue.
She had a round-trip
ticket, after all.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

HAPPINESS
—Stephen Dunn

A state you must dare not enter
with hopes of staying,
quicksand in the marshes, and all

the roads leading to a castle
that doesn't exist.
But there it is, as promised,

with its perfect bridge above
the crocodiles,
and its doors forever open.

__________________

—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's Up With Rattlesnake Press

The Snake will be snoozing through July and August, leaving Medusa to carry on alone. Then on September 10, we shall burst back onto the scene with Thirteen Poems, a new chapbook from Patrick Grizzell; #2 in Katy Brown's series of blank journals (Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions); a littlesnake broadside (Wind Physics) from Jordan Reynolds; plus Issue #19 of Rattlesnake Review (deadline is August 15). Meanwhile, look in on Medusa every day, and, for heaven's sake, keep sending stuff! The snakes of Medusa are always hungry...


Medusa's Weekly Menu:

(Contributors are welcome to cook up something for any and all of these!)

Monday: Weekly NorCal poetry calendar

Tuesday: Seed of the Week: Tuesday is Medusa's day to post poetry triggers such as quotes, forms, photos, memories, jokes—whatever might tickle somebody's muse. Pick up the gauntlet and send in your poetic results; and don't be shy about sending in your own triggers, too! All poems will be posted and a few of them will go into Medusa's Corner of each Rattlesnake Review. Send your work to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline for SOW; respond today, tomorrow, or whenever the muse arrives. (Print 'em out, maybe, save 'em for a dry spell?) When you send us work, though, just let us know which "seed" it was that inspired you.

Wednesday (sometimes): HandyStuff Quickies: Resources for the poet, including whatever helps ease the pain of writing and/or publishing: favorite journals to read and/or submit to; books, etc., about writing; organizational tools—you know—HandyStuff! Tell us about your favorite tools.

Thursday: B.L.'s Drive-Bys: Micro-reviews by our irreverent Reviewer-in-Residence, B.L. Kennedy. Send books, CDs, DVDs, etc. to him for possible review (either as a Drive-By or in future issues of Rattlesnake Review) at P.O. Box 160664, Sacramento, CA 95816.

Friday: NorCal weekend poetry calendar

Daily (except Sunday): LittleNips: SnakeFood for the Poetic Soul: Daily munchables for poetic thought, including short paragraphs, quotes, wonky words, silliness, little-known poetry/poet facts, and other inspiration—yet another way to feed our ravenous poetic souls.

And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far and in-between! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!

_________________

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

Ones That Got Away

Victor Hartmann's design for
The Great Gate of Kiev

THE VIGIL
—Ann Wehrman, Sacramento

(after Modest Mussorgsky's orchestral piece,
"Pictures at an Exhibition: The Great Gate of Kiev")

old man poised at forest's edge
sunset blazes
he approaches the gate
iron stands firm
he folds his hands
sky turns orange
he drops to the ground
gate remains closed

his body lies still
specter rises from it
dances, exalts
stands quietly beside it
hands folded
before the locked gate
horizon glows magenta
blue-white flickers
puncture darkness

__________________

Thanks, Ann! Ann Wehrman, a music major at CSUS, is also a poet who is a frequent contributor to Rattlesnake Review and Medusa's Kitchen. Write and ask and I'll send you a free littlesnake broadside of her work, or go to Medusa's archives (click on December 2007 at the right of this column) and read about Ann when she was featured (December 10, 2007).

About the drawing: On April 4, 1866 the Tsar Alexander II narrowly escaped an assassination attempt in the city of Kiev. A competition was ordained for the design of a great gate to commemorate what was referred to as "the event of April 4, 1866"—the Imperial Censor forbidding language any more particular than this. While the Tsar was happy to have escaped with his life, he apparently was a bit uneasy at any explicit public acknowledgments of the fact. Perhaps it was this ambivalence that led to the eventual cancellation of the project; or it may have been a simple paucity of funds. Victor Hartmann's design for The Great Gate of Kiev caused a sensation, though, and the architect himself felt it was the finest work he had yet done. The cancellation of the project must have come as a blow.

__________________

David Humphreys to be honored in Stockton:

Save the date of Friday, Oct. 17 (6:30 PM) for the 31st annual Arts Awards Celebration (“Starry Night”) in Stockton at the Bob Hope Theatre. Among those receiving awards are David Humphreys, for Outstanding Achievement in Literary Arts. As you may know, David, poet and publisher, passed away this month. Info: 209-937-7488.

__________________

The one that got away...

A VISIT FROM ALPHONSE
—Paul Zimmer

Alphonse arrives as a fifth season
Of rain and wet snow,
Like something I had
Suffered a lifetime ago.
He is an incurable disease.
He talks of Wanda always,
All he remembers is Wanda,
When I had hidden her away,
Covered her like a sand grain
In the cool grey of my brain.

I have not lived for Wanda.
I am even able to forget her.
Except for the days
Her memory acts up like
A knee in bad weather or
When some self-indulgent pest
Like Alphonse comes back
And wakes the pain
That lies low in
The hollows of my chest.

___________________

Tuesday is Seed of the Week Day: Today's "grain of sand in the brain" is The One That (Who?) Got Away. An obvious choice would be the lover who got away, but this could be anything else that got away: the job, the fish, the criminal. Or:


THE POEM YOU ASKED FOR
—Larry Levis

My poem would eat nothing.
I tried giving it water
but it said no,

worrying me.
Day after day,
I held it up to the light,

turning it over,
but it only pressed its lips
more tightly together.

I grew sullen, like a toad
through with being teased.
I offered it all my money,

my clothes, my car with a full tank.
But the poem stared at the floor.
Finally I cupped it in

my hands, and carried it gently
out into the soft air, into the
evening traffic, wondering how

to end things between us.
For now it had begun breathing,
putting on more and

more hard rings of flesh.
And the poem demanded the food,
it drank up all the water,

beat me and took my money,
tore the faded clothes
off my back,

said Shit,
and walked slowly away,
slicking its hair down.

Said it was going
over to your place.

___________________

THE POEM IN THE PARK
—Peter Davison

She waited eagerly on a park bench,
holding in her arms the humming of the day,
her eyes welling with lacrimae rerum.
I walked toward her through the bricky streets
tasting as I came the sky of the public park,
its gates ajar, its paths cast wide in welcome,
the bench warm beside her
with the words the poem and I would engage together.
But as I walked in under the sighing trees,
a gust of wind scattered from the dark pond
a flock of mallards, wings whistling,
crying out and fanning toward the harbor
over the buildings between the park and the sea.

Not until hours later, hemmed in between
office telephone and office typewriter,
did it come back to me. I'd left the poem
seated motionless upon a wooden bench
with tears in its eyes.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.

—Robert Frost

__________________

—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's Up With Rattlesnake Press

The Snake will be snoozing through July and August, leaving Medusa to carry on alone. Then on September 10, we shall burst back onto the scene with Thirteen Poems, a new chapbook from Patrick Grizzell; #2 in Katy Brown's series of blank journals (Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions); a littlesnake broadside (Wind Physics) from Jordan Reynolds; plus Issue #19 of Rattlesnake Review (deadline is August 15). Meanwhile, look in on Medusa every day, and, for heaven's sake, keep sending stuff! The snakes of Medusa are always hungry...


Medusa's Weekly Menu:

(Contributors are welcome to cook up something for any and all of these!)

Monday: Weekly NorCal poetry calendar

Tuesday: Seed of the Week: Tuesday is Medusa's day to post poetry triggers such as quotes, forms, photos, memories, jokes—whatever might tickle somebody's muse. Pick up the gauntlet and send in your poetic results; and don't be shy about sending in your own triggers, too! All poems will be posted and a few of them will go into Medusa's Corner of each Rattlesnake Review. Send your work to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline for SOW; respond today, tomorrow, or whenever the muse arrives. (Print 'em out, maybe, save 'em for a dry spell?) When you send us work, though, just let us know which "seed" it was that inspired you.

Wednesday (sometimes): HandyStuff Quickies: Resources for the poet, including whatever helps ease the pain of writing and/or publishing: favorite journals to read and/or submit to; books, etc., about writing; organizational tools—you know—HandyStuff! Tell us about your favorite tools.

Thursday: B.L.'s Drive-Bys: Micro-reviews by our irreverent Reviewer-in-Residence, B.L. Kennedy. Send books, CDs, DVDs, etc. to him for possible review (either as a Drive-By or in future issues of Rattlesnake Review) at P.O. Box 160664, Sacramento, CA 95816.

Friday: NorCal weekend poetry calendar

Daily (except Sunday): LittleNips: SnakeFood for the Poetic Soul: Daily munchables for poetic thought, including short paragraphs, quotes, wonky words, silliness, little-known poetry/poet facts, and other inspiration—yet another way to feed our ravenous poetic souls.

And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far and in-between! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!

_________________

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

What ARE Those Little Houses Called?

Cassiopeia

LITTLE HOUSES EVERYWHERE
—Ray Hadley, South Lake Tahoe

I was looking around my neighborhood
for these little houses that hold
electrical switching equipment.

A poet told me to do this.
He said they looked like fairy houses
or a house where an elf might live.
They were all around,
but nobody ever notices them.

They were there, of course, and when
you got close there was a humming sound
coming from inside.

No one was ever there. They must have
come at night to do repairs.

No sign of human activity, no
half a sandwich left on a gray board
above a meter, no forgotten cup
of a thermos.

They also looked like bath houses
where the children go to change clothes
before they go swimming,
rubber thongs across wet cement floors,
showers going on and off.

The houses yield nothing. Their secret
is kept as secret as the secret
of the starry sky.

Look, there's Orion, a few we recognize,
Cassiopeia. I always say out there,
one day, I'll learn the stars,

or one day see somebody go into
one of these little houses. Then,
I'll stop and ask what it is all about...

__________________

Thanks, Ray! Watch for more of Ray Hadley's poetry in Snake 19, due out in mid-September. And watch for a littlesnake broadside from Ray, coming out in November!

Speaking of Lake Tahoe, go see Ray and other poets from the Lake Tahoe Writing Club one week from Friday (8/27), at 7:30 PM, when there will be an Open Mic Night at the Valhalla Grand Hall in Tahoe, just north of Camp Richardson on Hiway 89. Travel Hiway 50 to the "y" then take 50 north about 5 miles.

And the second edition of writings from the Lake Tahoe Writing Club is available, too. It's been renamed The Edge, and it’s 73 pp, perfect-bound with colored photographs. They are now accepting submissions for the next edition, by the way. Go to TahoeWritingClub.com or info@LakeTahoeWritingClub.com/.

Also in Snake 19, we shall have poetry from several members of the West Virginia Writers Roundtable. One of these poets is Barbary Chaapel, who has a new book out which is available at cburll@hotmail.com/. Here is a sample from it; thanks, Barbary!


OUT OF HER SKIN
—Barbary Chaapel

Overhead in the woodshed
Betwixt errant wisteria vines and rafters
She watches me.

It is a new moon day.
She is in the blue: eyes cloudy,
Milk beneath her skin.

She is uneasy, wills me to leave
Her alone in her homeplace
To slough in one piece, her skin and eye caps.

In my own house, I shed long stockings
With economy of motion, hang them
Over the wood and gauze screen, prepare my bath.

This evening we'll celebrate
With saucers of milk and banana,
Sacred marigolds scattered on the woodshed floor,

This freedom from loathing,
This paradigm,
Beauty beneath our skin.

__________________

This week in NorCal poetry:

•••Monday (8/18), 7:30 PM: Sacramento Poetry Center presents Nancy Wallace and Melen Lunn Fureby at HQ for the Arts, 25th & R Sts., Sacramento. Refreshments and Open Mic. [See last Saturday's post for bios.]

Coming to SPC next Monday (8/25): Ann Keniston and June Saraceno.

•••Tuesday (8/19), 9 PM (and again on Thursday, Aug. 21 at 5 AM): The Moore Time for Poetry Television Show features Vocalist Yardley Griffin Jr., poet Candy, poet Mario Ellis Hill, poet Random Abiladeze and poet Angela Wilson. The show airs on Comcast Cable Ch. 17, or view it at www.accesssacramento.org (click on the BIG "Watch Channel 17" button).

•••Wednesday (8/20), 9 PM: Poetry Night at Bistro 33 presents B.L. Kennedy. Kennedy has been an active voice in Sacramento poetry since 1976. He is a graduate of California State University, Sacramento with Master’s Degrees in both Creative Writing and Performance Poetry. He also attended the Naropa Institute's Jack Kerouac School Of Disembodied Poetics where he studied with Allen Ginsberg, Anne Waldman, Robert Creeley and others, eventually earning an M.F.A. in American Literature and Creative Writing. He is the author of 25 books of poetry and Director of the documentary film, I Began To Speak, an informal history of poetry in Sacramento. Kennedy has been responsible for three poetry marathons and the production of Landing Signals: An Anthology Of Sacramento Poetry. He was born with attitude in the Bronx, NYC, digs Jazz, and is one of the hosts of the long-running Poetry Unplugged reading series at Luna’s Café in Sacramento. He also serves as Reviewer-in-Residence and Interviewer-in-Residence for Rattlesnake Review—watch for his “BL 418 Buzz” in each issue, his "B.L.'s Drive-Bys" (micro-reviews) each Thursday in Medusa's Kitchen, and Volume Four of his Rattlesnake Interview Series, Conversations, due out in November. In addition, watch for his new tribute to Luna's Café, due out October 30. (More about that later!)

Poetry Night at Bistro 33 takes place on the first and third Wednesdays of the month at 226 F Street in Davis. The featured reader begins at 9 PM, and an open mic follows the feature. All Poetry Night events are free and open to the public. The hosts of Poetry Night are Brad Henderson and Andy Jones.

•••Thursday (8/21), 8 PM: Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Café, 1414 16th St., Sacramento. Featured readers with open mic before and after.

•••Sunday (8/24), Noon to 4 PM: Poetry in the Trees in San Francisco. Picnic and poetry reading at the Jerry Garcia amphitheater. For detailed information and a photo of the amphitheater, go to clarahsu.com/hotel.html/ or contact Clara Hsu, 301 Gambier St., San Francisco, CA 94134-1341, tel: 415-244-1317, http://www.clarahsu.com/. This year they will be featuring four Bay Area Poet Laureates: Albert Flynn DeSilver of Marin, Penelope La Montagne of Healdsburg, Martha Meltzer of Pleasanton, and Connie Post of Livermore, as well as open mic before and after the featured readers.

__________________

NOCTURN CABBAGE
—Carl Sandburg

Cabbages catch at the moon.
It is late summer, no rain, the pack of the soil

cracks open, it is a hard summer.

In the night the cabbages catch at the moon, the
leaves drip silver, the rows of cabbages are
series of little silver waterfalls in the moon.

__________________

SKETCH OF A POET
—Carl Sandburg

He wastes time walking and telling the air, "I am superior even to the wind."

On several proud days he has addressed the wide circumambient atmosphere, "I am the wind myself."

He has poet's license 4-11-44; he got it even before writing of those "silver bugs that come on the sky without warning every evening."

He stops for the buzzing of bumblebees on bright Tuesdays in any summer month;
he performs with a pencil all alone among dun cattails, amid climbing juniper bushes, notations rivaling the foot tracks of anxious spiders; he finds mice homes under beach logs in the sand and pursues inquiries on how the mice have one room for bed-room, dining-room, sitting-room and how they have no front porch where they sit publicly and watch passers-by.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

I am here all morning with the familiar
Blank page in front of me, I have perused
An american anthology for stimulation
But the result is not encouraging as it used
To be when Walter Lowenfel's falling down words
Like ladders excited me to chance my arm
With nouns and verbs.
But the wren, the wren got caught in the furze
And the eagle turned turkey on my farm.

(from "In Blinking Blankness: Three Efforts" by Patrick Kavanagh)

__________________

—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's Up With Rattlesnake Press

The Snake will be snoozing through July and August, leaving Medusa to carry on alone. Then on September 10, we shall burst back onto the scene with Thirteen Poems, a new chapbook from Patrick Grizzell; #2 in Katy Brown's series of blank journals (Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions); a littlesnake broadside (Wind Physics) from Jordan Reynolds; plus Issue #19 of Rattlesnake Review (deadline is August 15). Meanwhile, look in on Medusa every day, and, for heaven's sake, keep sending stuff! The snakes of Medusa are always hungry...


Medusa's Weekly Menu:

(Contributors are welcome to cook up something for any and all of these!)

Monday: Weekly NorCal poetry calendar

Tuesday: Seed of the Week: Tuesday is Medusa's day to post poetry triggers such as quotes, forms, photos, memories, jokes—whatever might tickle somebody's muse. Pick up the gauntlet and send in your poetic results; and don't be shy about sending in your own triggers, too! All poems will be posted and a few of them will go into Medusa's Corner of each Rattlesnake Review. Send your work to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline for SOW; respond today, tomorrow, or whenever the muse arrives. (Print 'em out, maybe, save 'em for a dry spell?) When you send us work, though, just let us know which "seed" it was that inspired you.

Wednesday (sometimes): HandyStuff Quickies: Resources for the poet, including whatever helps ease the pain of writing and/or publishing: favorite journals to read and/or submit to; books, etc., about writing; organizational tools—you know—HandyStuff! Tell us about your favorite tools.

Thursday: B.L.'s Drive-Bys: Micro-reviews by our irreverent Reviewer-in-Residence, B.L. Kennedy. Send books, CDs, DVDs, etc. to him for possible review (either as a Drive-By or in future issues of Rattlesnake Review) at P.O. Box 160664, Sacramento, CA 95816.

Friday: NorCal weekend poetry calendar

Daily (except Sunday): LittleNips: SnakeFood for the Poetic Soul: Daily munchables for poetic thought, including short paragraphs, quotes, wonky words, silliness, little-known poetry/poet facts, and other inspiration—yet another way to feed our ravenous poetic souls.

And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far and in-between! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!

_________________

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

As It Does Each Day

Photo by Stephani Schaefer, Los Molinos

THE ROUND
—Stanley Kunitz

Light splashed this morning
on the shell-pink anemones
swaying on their tall stems;
down blue-spiked veronica
light flowed in rivulets
over the humps of the honeybees;
this morning I saw light kiss
the silk of the roses
in their second flowering,
my late bloomers
flushed with their brandy.
A curious gladness shook me.

So I have shut the doors of my house,
so I have trudged downstairs to my cell,
so I am sitting in semi-dark
hunched over my desk
with nothing for a view
to tempt me
but a bloated compost heap,
steamy old stinkpile,
under my window;
and I pick my notebook up
and I start to read aloud
the still-wet words I scribbled
on the blotted page:
"Light splashed..."

I can scarcely wait till tomorrow
when a new life begins for me,
as it does each day,
as it does each day.

___________________

—Medusa

Poetry Like Kudzu

Everything is Nothing
Painting by Kasey Rae, Canyon Country

THREADS OF LIGHT
—Allegra Silberstein, Davis

The sun half-way to noon,
dew still shining in the grass.
Under a valley oak
a clump of violets.

In a certain angle
of afternoon sun
starlight comes
from a piece of broken glass.

The sun dips in the west—
a daffodil drinks light.
Shadows yearn to the east,
evening turns to night…

Today no great list
of tasks completed
but so much space between
to gather simple joys:

threads of light
to weave into a flame
that glimmers in the dark
like a chalice.

__________________

Thanks, Kasey and Allegra! Watch for more of Allegra Silberstein, Kasey Rae, and Margaret Ellis Hill in Snake 19, due out in mid-September.


Next Monday at SPC:

•••Monday (8/18), 7:30 PM: Sacramento Poetry Center presents Nancy Wallace and Melen Lunn Fureby at HQ for the Arts, 25th & R Sts., Sacramento. Refreshments and Open Mic. Nancy Wallace writes: I grew up in Detroit, Michigan, married, went and lived in Canada for ten years and then moved to California. I’ve never wanted to leave California, but in going back to visit my family of origin, I’ve discovered my roots and we are a family of Canadian Americans (I’ll have to read my poem “Borders” sometime.) I have three children, all growed up and living in California. I’ve lived downtown (again) since 1980. I also love to give parties. But I was always lonely—everywhere I went, no matter how many people I met, I never met the same people again—until I found the writers in Sacramento. It was a little like heaven—people from all those walks of life, all those years of living just show up—people like Arthur Butler, Beautiful Willow, Bari Kennedy, Gene Avery, Becci Broussard, Jeannie Keltner, Kathryn Holwein, Rodrick Bedingfield and others. For the first time in my life, I really feel part of a community, a place where I can be liked and disliked but not kicked out—because I’m a writer, I belong because I’m a writer, not because I’m liked or I’m good, I just am a writer.

Melen Lunn Fureby writes: Poems began popping up off the pages of my journals around the time I moved to San Francisco from Philadelphia, in 1979. I wrote a lot in the '80's but my increasing commitment to a career in Special Education has squeezed my time for poetry considerably! I am grateful to the 3rd Sunday writers group for helping me find a pocket in which my muse can breathe.

Coming Monday, August 25: Ann Keniston and June Saraceno.

__________________

HOW LONG IS WAIT...
—Allegra Silberstein

In the heat of summer
we long for autumn, yet
falling leaves come unbidden.

How long is wait
beneath the hollow
bridges.

How far hunger
when the owl’s high cry
slices the night.

How long is wait
beneath the sky when
meteors fall.

In the cold of winter
we remember
falling leaves.

__________________

MELTING WAX
—Allegra Silberstein

I pick at wax residue
candle light nearly spent
the remainder of a meal
with bent thoughts like crumbs
brushed from the table
after the dishes are cleared.

Faint candle-glow
recalls falling winter snow
from that dawn when I was young
on a Wisconsin farm.
Light flickers like memories.
Melting wax feeds the charred wick.

___________________

James Lee Jobe took exception to a word that Raindog Armstrong used in one of his poems that was posted here yesterday. James writes: Looking at Raindog's poem on your blog I had to wonder; would he call my Asian wife a gook? My child? I suppose so. The word is despicable. The fact that it is in an attempt at art does not justify it. There is a difference between free speech and bigotry. I ask that you post this note as a voice of protest.

I wrote back that I thought the word was used to show one of the many ways "Johnny's" head had been messed with. JLJ replied: On the context of the word in the poem, I hear what you're saying, but it's still cheap. I've used hard language in poems, things one does not say in polite company, but in a lifetime of writing poems on many subjects I've never found a poem that benefited from a racial slur, and this poem is no different. Armstrong could have easily used "ready to kick Charlie's ass" or something similar.

What do you think?

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

MY POETRY LIKE KUDZU GROWS
—Margaret Ellis Hill, Wilton

I want to reach deep into the ground;
Grow in all directions. I want

my leaves to flicker with rain, glow
copper and gold, become spongy like earth.

I want to be unhindered, springing life
into brave tales that make marks on the world.

I want my mind to expand, to understand
the patience of an avocado seed waiting in water.

__________________

—Medusa

P.S. Want to read some really BAD prose? Peggy Hill says go to http://www.sjsu.edu/faculty/scott.rice/blfc2008.htm for the results of San Jose State's annual Bulwer-Lyton contest.


SnakeWatch: What's Up With Rattlesnake Press

The Snake will be snoozing through July and August, leaving Medusa to carry on alone. Then on September 10, we shall burst back onto the scene with Thirteen Poems, a new chapbook from Patrick Grizzell; #2 in Katy Brown's series of blank journals (Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions); a littlesnake broadside (Wind Physics) from Jordan Reynolds; plus Issue #19 of Rattlesnake Review (deadline is August 15). Meanwhile, look in on Medusa every day, and, for heaven's sake, keep sending stuff! The snakes of Medusa are always hungry...


Medusa's Weekly Menu:

(Contributors are welcome to cook up something for any and all of these!)

Monday: Weekly NorCal poetry calendar

Tuesday: Seed of the Week: Tuesday is Medusa's day to post poetry triggers such as quotes, forms, photos, memories, jokes—whatever might tickle somebody's muse. Pick up the gauntlet and send in your poetic results; and don't be shy about sending in your own triggers, too! All poems will be posted and a few of them will go into Medusa's Corner of each Rattlesnake Review. Send your work to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline for SOW; respond today, tomorrow, or whenever the muse arrives. (Print 'em out, maybe, save 'em for a dry spell?) When you send us work, though, just let us know which "seed" it was that inspired you.

Wednesday (sometimes): HandyStuff Quickies: Resources for the poet, including whatever helps ease the pain of writing and/or publishing: favorite journals to read and/or submit to; books, etc., about writing; organizational tools—you know—HandyStuff! Tell us about your favorite tools.

Thursday: B.L.'s Drive-Bys: Micro-reviews by our irreverent Reviewer-in-Residence, B.L. Kennedy. Send books, CDs, DVDs, etc. to him for possible review (either as a Drive-By or in future issues of Rattlesnake Review) at P.O. Box 160664, Sacramento, CA 95816.

Friday: NorCal weekend poetry calendar

Daily (except Sunday): LittleNips: SnakeFood for the Poetic Soul: Daily munchables for poetic thought, including short paragraphs, quotes, wonky words, silliness, little-known poetry/poet facts, and other inspiration—yet another way to feed our ravenous poetic souls.

And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far and in-between! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!

_________________

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.