Even the Stars are Frail

Bee and Cherry Blossoms
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis

ONE SEASON
—Myrna Scott

I had fresh strawberries today
their redolence preceded my tongue,
there was a light spring shower
a few minutes ago
now a night bird sings,
the moon lights the clouds
like pieces of dreams
and in the forest rhododendrons bloom,
yesterday I saw their pink joy
and tomorrow I'll walk to the sea,
it is the season that cradles five senses.

__________________

Yesterday I was in Sac environs and marveled at the springiness of the weather: warm and sunny, trees in bloom already, oxalis in full yellow, trees starting to leaf. Hence this week, in addition to our Seed of the Week: Locks, we're talking about spring. Thanks to Katy Brown for some beautiful visuals on the subject, all taken recently around here.

Tonight, be sure to pop over to Luna's Cafe (1414 16th St., Sacramento) for the release of Rattlesnake Press's free quarterly, WTF #5—poetry from Poetry Unplugged and friends, edited by frank andrick. Also featuring Gene Bloom (excerpts from entrails) and Baby Grand, plus open mic before and after. Gene is reprinting his journal from long ago, entrails, and I got to see a preview yesterday. This is a wonderful historical document that includes such marvels as Charles Bukowski and D.r. (yes, little r in those days) Wagner poems on facing pages. All for $8, with a color cover! Get 'em before they sell out!


Also tonight:

Andy Jones writes: I’m writing to let you know that we have altered the schedule for Bistro 33 Poetry Night in Davis; for now, our reading series will be split between two locations, and on different days of the week, and at a new, earlier time.

There was no Poetry Night last night at Bistro 33. Instead, the next event in our series will take place tonight/Thursday night, the 18th of February, 8 PM, at the John Natsoulas Gallery at 521 First Street on the corner of First and E Sts. in Davis. The poetry series will feature poets and fiction writers whose work appears in the latest edition of Nameless Magazine, the undergraduate journal of creative writing at UC Davis. Editors and contributors to Nameless have won a number of prizes recently, including first and second prizes in the Pamela Maus contest. This event will feature Brad Henderson as host, as well as free food and drink, and live music. The Open Mic will begin at about 9 PM. Brad and I (Andy Jones) extend our thanks to the staff of the John Natsoulas Gallery for welcoming half the events of our ongoing reading series.

The Facebook site for this event tomorrow is www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=269035226667. Add yourself!

Expect Poetry Night events every first Wednesday of the month to be at the Bistro at 8 PM (ribald storyteller John Boe joins us on March 3), and every third Thursday of the month at 8 PM at the John Natsoulas Gallery. Despite the shifting days and locations, we hope that you will continue to come to support and enjoy the work of local and traveling poets on Poetry Night!

For more on Nameless Magazine, see www.namelessmagazine.com/.

__________________

FLOWERS AND STARS
—Myrna Scott

the winding road leads to the sea
I walk there among the wildflowers,
poppies, purple lupine, mustard, wild radish—
they are as beautiful as starshine
though by summer they'll be gone,
but even the stars are frail.
in our polluted cities, you cannot find them.

__________________

SEASONS WITH YOU
—Myrna Scott

The fragrance of acacia blossom
Hovers in the air,
Come with me.

The sun has warmed the green meadow
And the larks are singing,
Talk with me.

The elm leaves are red and gold
Rain falls cold against my cheek,
Hold my hand.

The snow bends the pine limbs.
There is a blaze in the fireplace,
Stay with me.

__________________

THE SPEAKING
—Myrna Scott

following the sea northward
through green fields where cattle graze
clouds give way to the sun
and the wild rhododendrons
are lavishly pink at the roadside,
spring speaks in many tongues
including cherished memories,
you and I came up this coast
when we were very young—
so much has changed
but not the voice of spring,
let me not be bitter
as I listen once again.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

SEASON IN THE SUN
—Myrna Scott

I walk to the sea.
the first spring leaves
are on the willow branches
along the edge of the creek
the grass in the meadow
is a luminous green,
soon the wild flowers will bloom.
changes. changes in me.
like the tender leaves
I will try again to love my enemies.

Cherry Blossoms
Photo by Katy Brown

___________________

—Medusa

Locked & Loaded

We ain't no spring chickens, any of us...

LOCKED UP IN CARDBOARD
—Taylor Graham, Placerville

This morning’s lottery. A chance to win
treasure in a cardboard box. The stuff of closet
or cellar, saved from childhood, packaged up
by mother, put away almost forever.

Look at this pink plastic jewelry.
How it brings back that night, the footlights,
a 1st grader heralding you the Queen of Sheba—
and you forgot your lines.

Here’s one blue and green translucent marble
like a tiny sphere of Earth,
when you thought the world was boundless,
spinning, spun with sunshine.

A magnifying glass, to look for secrets
in an insect’s wing. Inspect your own hand, now,
through that lens; the lifeline huge
as a child’s hopes. This morning’s lottery.

__________________

FROM THE LAND OF THE FREE
—Taylor Graham

He found his way into the forepart of the ship, where he espied
a little space, which another bale or box would close from sight.
—Elihu Burritt, “An American Slave in London”

There he lay, sandwiched between
cargo on the deck; hands frozen into fists
he tried to warm in his armpits—a slave escaped
from America could tolerate almost anything:
clammy nights no darker than his former
life, the misty waking from cramped sleep. Hunger.
He was alive, at least, to the fervent hope of
freedom on the other shore.

But he was discovered in his hiding place,
his wrists lock-gripped into irons. He twisted
free. What to do but jump ship; trust
himself to the mercy—not of men, but
of God, and that mysterious ocean that held
him in its desperately rolling hand.

___________________

Thanks to today's poets and to D.R. Wagner for the photo below! This week's Seed of the Week is Locks; send your musings to kathykieth@hotmail.com


Coming Workshops:

•••WORKSHOP: A ONE-TIME PUBLISHING OPPORTUNITY WITH JANET GOLDSTEIN (ELLEN BASS’S NY EDITOR) IN SANTA CRUZ
Saturday, March 6, 2010, 10 AM-1 PM

"The Great Hall", Georgiana Bruce Kirby Prep School
425 Encinal Street, Santa Cruz, CA

If you've ever wanted to be published or to take your book, writing, or ideas to the next level and reach a wider audience—this workshop is for you. Best-selling author and local Santa Cruz writing teacher Laura Davis is hosting this one-time California event. She's thrilled to bring her smart, dynamic, funny New York editor, Janet Goldstein, to Santa Cruz for a very special weekend experience.

Whether you are an accomplished author, first-time fiction or nonfiction writer, an expert in your niche with a book or blog idea, or a a business or nonprofit leader who wants to make an impact with your ideas, this hands-on, interactive workshop will give you a "from the trenches" perspective of the publishing world. You will learn about the interconnection between writing and marketing, creating and connecting, inspiration and business savvy. In addition, insights from Janet's popular 7 Steps to Publishing Success and her signature Book Breakthrough Program will give you guidelines and expert direction to help you assess your creative progress, rethink and embrace structure, voice, audience, “platform,” and other writing essentials, look at places you're stuck and ways to get unstuck, explore publishing options, including the 4 Publishing Pathways (ebooks; print-on-demand; self-publishing; major and boutique traditional publishing) and the right pathway for you, and tap into the energy and passion it takes to realize your writing and publishing dream.

For more information or to register, go to goldsteinjanet.web.officelive.com/SantaCruz.aspx

•••FROM MEMORY TO MEMOIR: WEEKEND WORKSHOP WITH LAURA DAVIS
March 19-21, 2010 with an optional one-day follow up in April

Land of the Medicine Buddha, Soquel, CA
Cost: $500-620, all inclusive, depending on choice of accommodations. Payment plans are available.

Laura Davis is offering a repeat of her successful weekend workshop. She will help you explore the difference between memoir and autobiography and other questions: Is my life worth recording on paper? How can I give my personal story universal significance? What about the other people I'm writing about? Isn't this a violation of their privacy? How can I write about my life when my memories are vague or spotty?

You do not have to be writing a memoir to attend. If you have stories to tell and want to add more perspective, specificity, and power to your personal writing, you can also benefit. Info: 831-464-9517 or www.lauradavis.net/Retreats/memory.html,
www.lauradavis.net/About/contact.html

•••LIFE LINES: A POETRY CONFERENCE IN HEALTHCARE
May 21-23, 2010

Poetry for Our Patients, Our Communities, Our Selves. The conference will bring together nationally-known poets and healthcare providers for panel presentations, group discussions and workshops examining the place of poetry in care-giving. Highlights of the conference include Friday and Saturday evening talks by David Whyte and Jane Hirshfield.

Duke University, Trent Center, Trent.Center@mc.duke.edu
For information about the conference and to register, visit our website: www.duke.edu/web/lifelines

__________________

THE STARS ARE TROUBLED
—D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove

(for Lisa)

The stars are troubled
By her loveliness and fear
For their dominion.

A wake of twilight she leaves
That dreams the seas around
Her feet and honors all she is.

She gives leave to the birds
That they may fly about the sky
And make of the air sweet song.

She is clad in the world.
The morning is her hair
And her eyes are of the goodness of all things.

Still the stars are troubled
By her loveliness and fear,
They fear for their dominion.

__________________

THE STAR EATER
—D.R. Wagner

He who has eaten stars
Spoke to us of distance better
Than anyone had ever described
Far spaces to us. He said we

All know, within ourselves
That this universe appears
To be endless. Objects located
Light years apart. Each galactic
Presence able to see one another
Only as points of light. He then said

That this too is illusion.
As our hearts gather consciousness
These infinite distances are as mirrors
To our own bodies. Just as each

One of us is composed of an infinite
Number of cells often ranging far
Beyond our understanding of their
Purposes or activities within us

They still exist as part of ourselves,
United merely by our presence here.
The great distances beyond our bodies
Are only these same bodies seen from
Another view of our dreaming. He said

That all great distances, even infinities,
Should be common to us all
Is not in conflict with what we
Know, each one of us.

Also a star, a cell, a voice,
A point of light. There
Is no answer in this telling.
Only another facet of the mystery
That is our being. The more
We know of all things, the greater
The dances wonder performs before us.

__________________

DANCING IN THE HEART
—D.R. Wagner

Dancing in the heart,
Against the shore, the lights
Seem to be dreaming the evening.
Deer come down to drink before
Night unfolds its arms, reaches for the moon
And stretches itself across our window panes.

I remember a thousand names
For how we make love, but am
Unable to say a single one aloud,
So marvelous is the language of their dancing.

We can pause only a short while.
We are of the natural world.
We are constantly being transformed.
I reach out to touch you and am
Surprised that we have nothing
To do with time at all.
The heart, the shore lights, this room,
This wild, wild dancing.

Paradise
Enhanced Photo by D.R. Wagner

Today's LittleNip:

locked
—charles mariano, sacramento

if i were a lock
i'd waste
no time
finding a key

__________________

—Medusa

Locks & Blocks

TOMATO PLANTING IN MERCED
—Charles Mariano, Sacramento

in a conversation with Chuck
gentleman and guardian
of a table and post
at McHenry Museum
yesterday,

amid displays
of ancient tools
rusted, dug and preserved
from central valley farming
of days gone,

i’m reminded
of hot summer days
in the dusty fields of Merced
just off the Los Banos Highway

of an old watertank planter
pulled by a small ford tractor
with two bent metal seats
in back,
low to the ground
the water spout
between us
pointing down
to the dry, thirsty dirt

daddy and i
took turns
dropping Ace tomato plants
into the watered groove
six inches apart

each of us
with a lug of plants
in our laps
nurtured from seed
in the old woodframe hotbeds
out back
during winter

as the tractor chugged
across the dirt
under that blazing sun
i yelled to my brother driving
tractor up front,

“Junie! runnin low on water!”

he looked back,
his face ringed with dust and sweat
nodded, then turned
at the end of the next row
to head back to the canal
to restart the pump

__________________

Thanks to Charles Mariano and Joyce Odam for today's poetry. It's Tuesday, and our Seed of the Week is locks. Real ones (barn doors, prison gates, locks on diaries, being locked in or locked out) and metaphorical ones (locks on hearts and minds, writer's block, however we can be locked in or locked out). Send your SOWs to kathykieth@hotmail.com; no deadline.

This Thursday (2/18) at 12 Noon, head downtown for the Brown Bag Lunch Series at the Central Library, 828 I St., Sacramento. Mary Zeppa and Lawrence Dinkins are hosts. This Third Thursday reading follows close on the heels of Valentine’s Day. There are, of course, many famous poems about romantic love. On 2/18, let’s branch out from that familiar concept. Bring your favorite poems (preferably by a writer other than yourself) about any kind of love. Maybe you’ve read a terrific poem about loving music or sculpture or horses or kite-flying or skateboarding! Let your mind run free.


Calls for Submissions:

•••A reminder to all that the Spring Poetic Matrix Press Newsletter (www.poeticmatrix.com) is in preparation as we speak. Joyce Downs is Guest Editor of the issue that takes the theme of "Love and its Many Permutations." Please submit two or three poems with a required 3-line bio to poeticmatrixpressnewsletter@yahoo.com by March 1st.

•••CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: KENT STATE UNIVERSITY’S WICK POETRY CENTER
Deadline: May 2010

On behalf of Kent State University's Wick Poetry Center, KSU Art Galleries, and Soldier’s Heart, you are invited to participate in an exciting international art project. In collaboration with the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City, Viet Nam, the Vietnamese Children’s Art Exhibit will debut—for the first time in the United States— in September of 2010 at Kent State University, then travel nationally. This exhibit will showcase a collection of Vietnamese children’s artwork on themes of peace and war alongside the poems of grade school children, senior citizens, veterans, and established American poets. Some of the children’s drawings and paintings are now available on the Wick Poetry Center website (dept.kent.edu/wick).

Send all poetry submissions with a short bio to Nicole Robinson, at nlrobin1@kent.edu/. Please include the title and number of the work (located in the corresponding textbox, found below each image) that you’re responding to.

I’d also like to invite you to participate in this project’s curriculum planning efforts. Over the next several months, we’ll be posting writing prompts, lesson plans, and ekphrastic poetry units to our website. Should you create any of your own teaching materials in support of the Vietnamese Children’s Art Exhibit, we’d love to include them in our online catalogue for curriculum planning, making them available to educators all around the world. Curriculum planning ideas, which we’ll collect until the end of the semester, may be emailed to Melissa Barrett, at barrett.mel@gmail.com/.

Thank you for your support in this unique and timely project, which will showcase the visions of Vietnamese children and the power of poetry to promote peace and reconciliation worldwide.

David Hassler
Director, Wick Poetry Center

•••CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: WRITERADVICE SEEKS FLASH FICTION, MEMOIR AND CREATIVE NON-FICTION
Deadline: April 15, 2010.
First prize: $150

750 words or less. Entry fee $10 per submission. Former prizewinners are the judges. Complete guidelines, mailing address, and prizes at www.writeradvice.com/.

•••CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: WERGLE FLOMP HUMOR POETRY CONTEST
Deadline: April 1, 2010

Ninth annual free contest. Fifteen cash prizes totaling $3,600. Top prize $1,500. New simplified online entry process. Submit one humor poem—previously published okay, simultaneous submission okay. Winning entries published online. Sponsored by Winning Writers, one of the "101 Best Websites for Writers" (Writer's Digest, 2005-2009). Visit us online for guidelines and online submissions at www.winningwriters.com/contests/wergle/we_guidelines.php

•••CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: GINOSKO LITERARY JOURNAL, WINTER ISSUE
Deadline September 1, 2010

Accepting short fiction & poetry, spoken word recordings, creative non-fiction, interviews and social justice concerns. Also looking for artwork, photography, to post on website and links to exchange

Accept simultaneous submissions & reprints; length flexible, accept excerpts. Receives postal submissions & email—prefer email submissions as attachments in Microsoft Works Word Processor or Rich Text Format; cannot open .docx files.

Publishing as semiannual ezine, winter & summer. Selecting material from ezine for Kindle anthology. Check downloadable issues on website for style & tone: www.ginoskoliteraryjournal.com (Use latest version of Adobe Reader.)

•••ALSO FROM GINOSKO: SHORT FICTION CONTEST, BEST RENDERING OF A SPIRITUAL AWAKENING
Deadline: October 1, 2010
$1000 prize, $10 entry fee
Write check or money order to “Ginosko”

Ginosko (ghin-océ-koe): To perceive, understand, realize, come to know; knowledge that has an inception, a progress, an attainment. The recognition of truth by experience.

Ginosko Literary Journal
Robert Paul Cesaretti, Editor
PO Box 246
Fairfax, CA 94978
GinoskoEditor@aol.com

•••CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: A GATHERING OF THE TRIBES
DEADLINE: February 28, 2010

A Gathering of the Tribes magazine is accepting poetry, fiction and non-fiction submissions for issue #13.

—You may submit 5-10 poems at a time and fiction and non-fiction that is no more than 2,500 words in length.
—Submissions will not be returned to sender, so please don't send us your only copy.
—Simultaneous submissions are fine, please let us know if something that you send us has been published during the time of submission.
—You may email submissions to editor amy.ouzoonian@gmail.com or mail them to A Gathering of the Tribes, PO Box 20693, New York, NY 10009

To learn more about the style and genre of the work that we are most likely to accept, either purchase a copy of A Gathering of the Tribes magazine at your local bookseller or visit our website: www.tribes.org

__________________

ESCORT
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento

O gigolo,
I know your game;
you flatter me
as if you loved

the softness of
my name…my charm…
my looks…my wealth…
my choice of you…

the way I do
not look my age,
and may not last
till midnight. You

arrive on time.
I love you, too,
sweet boy. I’ll get
my cane. I’m game.


(previously appeared in Bliss)

__________________

COURTSHIP
—Joyce Odam

I am the dark.
Come marry me.

I am cold.
Feel my heart.

It is still.
It is not breathing.

It is not connected
to my life.

Will you marry me
like this?

I am without promise.
I will hurt you.


(From My Best Regrets, Mini-Chap, 2008)

__________________

FLY ON THE WALL
—Charles Mariano

(McHenry Museum, Modesto, CA)

blew into town
one bright saturday
a tumbleweed
off the 99

and despite my usual
well-dressed fears
in a vast sea
of unfamiliar,

a silent agreement
this time
to at least attend
and listen

it’s strange
but when allowed
the opportunity
to mingle,
i choose to crawl
deceptively
on a wall
a common insect
a precarious perch
of stark raving dread

and take notes,

“i will not raise my hand,
i will not speak,
am…the fly”

today, the morning after
steam rises slowly
from my coffee cup,

memories of yesterday
grand rooms of elegance,
creative flair
false bravery
blurred
in the morning fog,
of genuine warmth
the kindness of strangers,
a host
gracious and true,

and me,
a fly
a frightened tumbleweed
off the 99,

who rarely speaks

_____________________

Today's LittleNip:

Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things.

—Robert Frost

Photo by Steve Byland

—Medusa

Under Cherry Flowers

Spring!
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis

THE LAST ROAD TRIP: IMPERIAL VALLEY
—Cynthia Linville, Sacramento

We've been here before.
We know the twists and turns
of this argument—
the ground scorched along Route 86
from the crash we witnessed last year.
The Salton Sea
ever increasing in salinity
(and dead fish)
result of unchecked flooding
from the red-colored river
that nearly destroyed us all.
The mud pots
where we've almost gotten stuck
so many times
spotted red
viscous, boiling.
The Algodones Dunes
(just west of the Chocolate Mountains)
which have frequently been a barrier
to human movement,
including ours.
Can it be a coincidence
that this landscape also served
as the site of desert warfare training
in WWII?
We never made it
to El Centro
again.

_________________

Thanks, Cynthia, for today’s poems, and to Katy Brown for the spring photos. Katy will be reading at Cynthia's Marathon of Love Poems on Friday; see below.

Cynthia Linville teaches English at California State University, Sacramento and serves as poetry editor of Poetry Now and managing editor of Convergence: an online journal and poetry and art (www.convergence-journal.com). She has hosted a Friday night reading series for two-and-a-half years which has alternated between The Vox Gallery and SPC.

Cynthia has been featured as an editor in "A not-so-dumb guide to publishers’ secrets: Now is a good time to write poetry in Sacramento" (Sacramento News & Review, May 7, 2009) and as a poet on both SacramentoPress.com (November 18, 2009) and Bob Stanley's County Lines (a Sacramento Metropolitan Arts Commission website, November 23, 2009). Over sixty of her poems have been published within the last few years in Sacramento News & Review, Sacramento Bee, Consumnes River Journal, Song of the San Joaquin, Medusa’s Kitchen, Rattlesnake Review, WTF, and Brevities (forthcoming) among others.

Cynthia hopes to see you at her annual Marathon of Love Poems where twenty local poets read about love, lust, and heartache on Friday, February 19, from 7:00-8:30 PM, at HQ for The Arts (1719 25th Street, Sacramento). Free. Refreshments provided. See below for a list of readers. And look over on the Bulletin Board at the right for a photo of the lovely CL.

The world has lost a gentle yet strong force; award-winning poet Lucille Clifton has died of infection at age 73. Her presence has influenced so many. For those who mourn and for those who did not know her, here is a link to her voice, reading at the 2008 Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival: www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEVdSYqyk2Y

Lucille Clifton

Patricia Wellingham-Jones writes to remind me, apropos of yesterday’s post, that this weekend is the Great Backyard Bird Count, nationwide and Canada. “Fun to participate”, she says. (www.birdsource.org/gbbc). I used to do something similar for a volunteer program through Cornell University, though that lasts all winter.

I know, I know—Medusa’s Kitchen is full of change, change, change these days, and it seems like it’s going on forever, just like a real kitchen remodel. Well, that’s what happens when I have too much time on my hands. But I hope you’ll keep looking at it, including the very bottom of the Bulletin Board, and farther on into the Big Blue Box and its new section about The Remodel. (Sometimes we save the best for last, like Katy's beautiful daffodil.)


This week in NorCal poetry:

(for a more complete listing of events, go to eskimopie.net)

•••Weds. (2/17), 7-8:30 PM: Our House Gallery Poetry Series meets at Our House Gallery, 1004 White Rock Road #400, El Dorado Hills (Montano de El Dorado Center, south of Hwy 50 on Latrobe Rd at White Rock Rd). Open mic; if you would like to read, please sign up by 7 PM: Info: 916-933-4278.

•••Thursday (2/18), 12 Noon: Brown Bag Lunch Series at the Central Library, 828 I St., Sacramento. Mary Zeppa and Lawrence Dinkins as hosts. This Third Thursday reading follows close on the heels of Valentine’s Day. There are, of course, many famous poems about romantic love. On 2/18, let’s branch out from that familiar concept. Bring your favorite poems (preferably by a writer other than yourself) about any kind of love. Maybe you’ve read a terrific poem about loving music or sculpture or horses or kite-flying or skateboarding! Let your mind run free.

•••Thurs. (2/18), 8 PM: Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe & Juice Bar, 1414 16th St., Sacramento, features the release of Rattlesnake Press's free quarterly WTF #5—poetry from Poetry Unplugged and friends, edited by frank andrick. Also featuring Gene Bloom (excerpts from entrails) and Baby Grand, plus open mic before and after. Get there early to get a seat!

•••Friday (2/19), 7-8:30 PM: A Marathon of Love Poems: Twenty Local Poets Read Poems of Love, Lust, and Heartache at HQ for The Arts, 1719 25th St. (at R) in Sacramento. Free. Refreshments provided. Hosted by Cynthia Linville; info: clinville@csus.edu Material may not be suitable for children.

Readers include:
Katy Brown
Joe Atkins
Josh Fernandez
Rebecca Morrison
James Lee Jobe
Lytton Bell
Alexandra Sage
Jeff Knorr
Frank Andrick
Sibilla Hershey
Jim Benton
Catherine Fraga
Michelle Johnson
Stan Zumbiel
Crawdad Nelson
Quinton Duval
SLiC
Patricia Hickerson
Brad Henderson
Arnold Robbins

•••Friday (2/19), 7:30 PM: The Other Voice (sponsored by the UU Church of Davis) proudly presents Zoe Keithley and Carlena Wike. The reading begins at 7:30 in the library of the church located 27074 Patwin Road. Refreshments and open mike follow, so bring along a poem or two to share. Zoe Keithley lives in Sacramento where she leads workshops, consults privately, edits, and hosts quarterly public fiction readings for Story Workshop® Sacramento. A native Chicagoan, she taught writing at Columbia College while earning a Master of Arts in the Teaching of Writing and Master Teacher certificate in the Story Workshop® approach to writing there. She also presented poetry with World Enough And Time, a poetry/flute ensemble, in the Chicago area and the Midwest. Zoe Keithley has completed one novel and has a second near completion. She is a pize-winniing fiction writer in the short story and also writes childrens' stories. She has been a student of the banjo for over twelve years and is just now learning to move out of the key of G.

Carlena Wike’s life straddles the Sacramento River. She lives in Elk Grove but has found community in Davis and hopes to move there in the near future. She won First Prize for her poem, "The Executive", at Valley College in Los Angeles, and has been a featured reader at venues in Los Angeles, Laguna Beach, and more recently at The Book Collector and The Other Voice in Davis. She has had poetry and a broadside published by Rattlesnake Press, and her poetry has appeared in Poetry Now. In addition to poetry, Carlena writes essays and corresponds almost daily by letter. Should the USPS go belly up, Carlena hopes to post the historic last letter written on paper, signed in ink, and delivered by mail carrier to some rural address where such documents are read, re-read and cherished.

•••Sat. (2/20), 8 AM-5 PM: The annual California Duck Days will be held at the Yolo Bypass Wildlife Area Headquarters, 45211 County Rd. 32B, featuring an exhibit hall with interactive displays such as trout fishing for kids, duck calling and a live bat workshop, as well as field trips. Cost is $20-$25 general, free for children younger than 16. Registration suggested for field trips. Info: www.yolobasin.org

___________________

NOT FRIED CHICKEN BUT BOURBON,

not The Derby or the Red Birds or Wildcats
but Bluegrass (and bluegrass).
The Commonwealth but not much of it
except for those who got rich
removing mountaintops.
Kentucky:
land of magnolia trees and road kill,
second cousins and missing teeth,
Hot Brown and Kentucky mean.

—Cynthia Linville

___________________

SOMEHOW THIS MOONLESS RIDE

into smoky night
peels dark memories
off my frozen thoughts
(how my arms ached
from holding you so tight
on the back of your Yamaha 750 that night)

tonight flawed dreams float in our wake like grist
(at seventeen we thought
it will always be like this)
now sunken skies grizzle
but cover me only
with dirty silence and ash
this hot thunder can’t last


—Cynthia Linville

___________________

FALLING
—Cynthia Linville

You fell asleep by the campfire
engulfed in mist where you lay
Mendocino—
a perfect day.

Your hair smells like the redwoods
your skin tastes like dew—
you wear the wind as a cape
you smile your eyes a bluer blue.

Breath held, we are poised at the edge
between before and after—
will we slide back
or tumble over?

_________________

Today's LittleNip:

Under cherry flowers,
none are utter strangers.

—Issa

Cherry blossoms
—Photo by Katy Brown

—Medusa

It Could Be a Valentine

LITTLE OWL WHO LIVES IN THE ORCHARD
—Mary Oliver

His beak could open a bottle,
and his eyes—when he lifts their soft lids—
go on reading something
just beyond your shoulder—
Blake, maybe,
or the Book of Revelation.

Never mind that he eats only
the black-smocked crickets,
and dragonflies if they happen
to be out late over the ponds, and of course
the occasional festal mouse.
Never mind that he is only a memo
from the offices of fear—

it's not size but surge that tells us
when we're in touch with something real,
and when I hear him in the orchard
fluttering
down the little aluminum ladder of his scream—
when I see his wings open, like two black ferns,

a flurry of palpitations
as cold as sleet
rackets across the marshlands
of my heart,
like a wild spring day.

Somewhere in the universe,
in the gallery of important things,
the babyish owl, ruffled and rakish,
sits on its pedestal.
Dear, dark dapple of plush!
A message, reads the label,
from that mysterious conglomerate:
Oblivion and Co.
The hooked head stares
from its blouse of dark, feathery lace.
It could be a valentine.

—Medusa

The Very Birds Are Mute

HOW DID

I love thee, let me count
the days, I loved thee
for at least 7665, more
if you count before
marriage, less if you
subtract mistrust,
anguish, anger and grief.

I loved you through
pregnancies, PhD’s,
and statewide moves,
through Vietnam fallout,
babies bawling out, firings,
lost houses and keys, and adultery;
I did not waiver my loyalty.

I smile, now God hath chosen.


—Ann Privateer, Davis

____________________

MY SOIGNÉ EXPRESSION
—Ann Privateer

Father’s solution for all things medical--
a stiff salt gargle, today I am the Morton
Salt Girl, trying to tame the wind, my black
umbrella sheltering me from shooters and floaters,
clusters of Giaconda Jacaranda pods dashed
from the trees, split open on wet asphalt
to spit pink seeds, spilling out willy-nilly.

When we finger it, his heart attack ossified my
heart at sixteen, to become numb, no romance, only life’s
tedium, forgoing drowning for the beaker of my
own face, deluded, becalmed, bemoaned, and alone.
My uneven trajectory evolved a girth of hairball alms
on rainy days, to play while iris purpled my arms, projecting
a colorless poof ball rendition of me on the wall.

___________________

Remember the Camellia Festival?

The Camellia Show still exists (and will celebrate its 86th year next month), but the Festival hasn’t been around since 1993. But the Sacramento Bee is asking for your recollections of The Camellia Festival. They want you to e-mail your memories to h&g@sacbee.com (put “camellias” in the subject line); they’ll include excerpts in an upcoming Home and Garden section. Deadline is Monday, February 22. I’m guessing/hoping that maybe, just maybe, they might be interested in a wee poem or two about it. Heck—give it a shot; what've ya got to lose? Poets should always be on the lookout for opportunities to slip poetry in where none has gone before…

__________________

HOW LIKE A WINTER HATH MY ABSENCE BEEN
—William Shakespeare

How like the winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time remov'd was summer's time,
The teeming autumn big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widdowed wombs after their Lord's increase:
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me,
But hope of Orphans, and un-fathered fruit,
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute.
Or if they sing, tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

_________________

BLACK MONDAY LOVESONG
—A.S.J. Tessimond

In love's dances, in love's dances,
One retreats and one advances.
One grows warmer and one colder,
One more hesitant, one bolder.
One gives what the other needed
Once, or will need, now unheeded.
One is clenched, compact, ingrowing
While the other's melting, flowing.
One is smiling and concealing
While the other's asking, kneeling.
One is arguing or sleeping
While the other's weeping, weeping.

And the question finds no answer
And the tune misleads the dancer
And the lost look finds no other
And the lost hand finds no brother
And the word is left unspoken
Till the theme and thread are broken.

When shall these divisions alter?
Echo's answer seems to falter:
"Oh the unperplexed, unvexed time
Next time....one day...one day...next time!"

__________________

MAY I FEEL SAID HE
—e.e. cummings

may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she

(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)

___________________

This next one is my Valentine to the community. Phil Weidman wrote it for the Snake's surprise party that happened last Wednesday (thanks, Phil!)—a sort of Valentine from those folks to me. I'm publishing it here because the third stanza so aptly sums up how I feel about our wonderful gaggle of writers—my Valentine to you:


WONDER WOMAN
—Phil Weidman, Pollock Pines

Wonder Woman is alive
and well sending out
rainbows of original poetry
from a mountain top
east of here.

We’ve seen nothing as magical
since Ben Hiatt and D.R.
Wagner rolled out a constant
stream of poetry off their
smoking mimeo machines
in the fertile 60s and 70s.

Who knew there were so many
Nor Cal poets harboring
lively poems waiting patiently,
like dandelions,
for the concrete to crack?

Enter Wonder Woman,
disguised as Kathy Kieth,
with a jackhammer in one
hand, Rattlesnake in the other.

___________________

Today's LittleNip:

TWO POUNDS (ASSORTED)

—Patricia A. Pashby, Sacramento

there it sits unopened
tantalizing the taste buds
a familiar white box
wrapped in buttercup paper
dotted with speckled eggs
the essence of sweet chocolate
wafting through the air . . .

—Medusa

Loins and Limbs

Adele Sakler

I AM QUEER & AN AMERICAN CITIZEN
—Adele Sakler, Citrus Heights

i am an American citizen.
i am the queer citizen.
They tell me i'm a 2nd-class citizen
by the way they take my rights away
by mob majority votes.
i laugh in the face of adversity as
i keep up the fight,
though i get weary

Will tomorrow bring freedom
and equality
Like it did for women and African Americans?
One day i will be a first-class citizen, equal and on par
with every other law-abiding, tax paying citizen.
Nobody will keep this queer American down!

_________________

Thanks, Adele! Adele Sakler currently resides in Citrus Heights with her partner and their cute Tibetan Spaniel named Mushu. She suffers from, and is in treatment for, Chronic Lyme Disease, a few other Tick-Borne diseases and Heavy Metal Toxicity.

She considers herself at this point in her journey a Christian agnostic because she just can’t seem to sign on the dotted line and ascribe to all the doctrines and long-held man-made traditions of Christendom any longer. "She is Thomas, doubter. She is Judas, betrayer. She is Nicodemus, reluctant in the night. She is St. John of the Cross, soul darkened by love." (David Henson: unorthodoxology.blogspot.com/) "She is lost, wicked, and depraved but redeemed by the grace and beauty of God."
(Eugene Cho: eugenecho.wordpress.com/)

She loves G-D and is a failing Christ-follower. Adele has been a Christ-follower for over 20 years and an “out” queer woman for over three years. Her involvement with the emerging church and Emergent Village has filled the better part of 10 years. She blogs at existentialpunk.com and is the creator and site administrator for queermergent.com

Adele says her poems today were all inspired by Langston Hughes. The first was a response to his "I, Too, Sing Rivers"; the second is an acrostic based on "The Weary Blues"; the third was inspired by "The Negro Speaks of Rivers". Very appropriate for Black History Month (as well as for Lincoln's birthday); thanks again, Adele, and congrats on your first published poetry!

And thanks to Taylor Graham (who's writing through her sniffles), Mitz Sackman (who tackled Speed Dating), and Tom Goff (more sniffles), for our Seed of the Week poems, plus another wonderful enhanced photo from D.R. Wagner. And thanks to Allegra Silberstein who suggested, in the writing class she teaches, that Adele send us poems.

_________________

WANTING MIRACLES
—Adele Sakler

Today i'm exhausted and weary,
Handing me droopy eyes
Ever so empty and

What i want is a renewal,
Energy to carry me far like
Air flowing through my lungs as if
Riding on a motorcycle, air whipping through my hair
Yelling, 'fly like a bird!'

Boldness dampened by exhaustion,
Lazy times adrift
Under a deep spell
Expecting miracles but
Snuffing out the life in me.

__________________

THE TICKLING OF MY TOES
—Adele Sakler

i've known oceans,
i've known oceans far and wide,
engulfing my flesh and blood.
Oceans know me by the tickling of my toes
from its floor.
Oceans teaming with life set out
to pull me under.
Underneath as if i'll never
breathe again.

_________________

This weekend in NorCal poetry:

(for a more complete listing, go to eskimopie.net)

•••Sat. (2/13), 7-9 PM: Same-sex Speed Dating at Tsakopolous Galleria West Meeting Room, Sacramento Central Library, 818 I St., Sacramento. Limited to 20 men and 20 women. Must be 21 or older and must register in advance: go to ow.ly/TtIn

•••Sat. (2/13), 2 PM: Citrus Heights Area Poets present Bob (“Pinky”) Neilson and Jeanie Robertson at Barnes & Noble Bookstore on Sunrise Blvd. in Citrus Heights. Open mic. Free.

•••Sat. (2/13), 1 PM: Song of the San Joaquin Poetry Quarterly (Vol. VII, No. 1) will be read at the McHenry Museum, 1402 “I” St., Modesto. Poets in the book include Carol and Laverne Frith of Sacramento, Don and Elsie Feliz of Sacramento, Modesto Poet Laureate Ed Bearden and Roberta Bearden, nancee kinkaid maya of Patterson, Fredrik Zydek of Omaha, Nebraska, Chad Sokolovsky of Modesto, V.J. Vogelzang of Modesto, Rene Hargrove of New York, Lyn Lifshin of Niskayuna, N.Y. and Virginia, Connie Post, Poet Laureate Emeritus of Livermore, Nancy Fowler of Port Angeles, Washington, plus many more. Free. Open Mike to follow. Light refreshments. Info: Cleo Griffith, cleor36@yahoo.com or (209) 543-1776.

•••Sunday (2/14), 2-4 PM: Lincoln Poetry Club features members published by ShortReads Press: Jack Fabian, David Anderson, Stephen Sterling, Jacob Williams, Barb Lackovic, Molly Williams, Bonnie Dunlap, Lisa Augustine, Evelyn Stecher, Shirley Russell, Cleo Kocol and Sue Clark. Lincoln Poets Club, the Willow Room, 12 Bridges Library, 485 12 Bridges Dr., Lincoln. Info: 916-434-9226 or sjclark@psyber.com. Free. Sponsored by the Friends of the Lincoln Library.

•••Monday (2/15), 7:30 PM: Sacramento Poetry Center (HQ for the Arts, 1719 25th St., Sacramento) presents Anna Marie, Laura Cook (Immobeme), Sean King and Dawn DiBartolo.


Penumbra extends submissions deadline:

Penumbra, the literary magazine at CSU Stanislaus, has extended its deadline until February 26. Info: www.csustan.edu/English


SPC Reading for Autism March 29:

Frank Dixon Graham writes: Monday, March 29, 2010 is shaping up to be an extra special poetry reading event. Rebecca Foust, a Bay Area poet who has a son with autism, will be reading. She will donate proceeds from the sale of her beautiful books to charity. Geoffrey Neill, a Luna's reading host and young talent, is also on slate. Several people are on board to prepare this splendid benefit for autism: Laura Baumann, Katy Brown, Linda Collins, and Shawn Aveningo. Still, we would like to have more help in organizing.

If you can give two or three hours of your time to help promote the reading, bring food or drink, recruit a talented author/reader, or can offer some other service or donation, please let one of us (Laura, Katy, Shawn, Linda or myself) know. We're especially interested in raising some money for autism and recruiting poets who have some first-hand knowledge of autism, but any gift of your time or service you can give will be very welcome. There are some especially gifted autistic poets nearby, as well as family and friends who love them and write poems, and I hope we can reach as many as possible and hear their poetry read at SPC on this date.

frank graham
916.606.4303

Rebecca Foust was born in Altoona, formerly one of the country’s great railroad towns, located in the Allegheny Mountains in western Pennsylvania, and grew up in nearby Hollidaysburg, a tiny town surrounded by farmlands and forests, quarries and strip mines. After attending Smith College and Stanford Law School on scholarships, she practiced law in San Francisco for ten years, then worked as an advocate and grassroots political organizer for parents of kids with autism and other learning disorders. She continues to do volunteer work for causes related to autism and teach and write in Northern California, where she live with her husband and three teenagers. In January of 2010, she will receive her MFA from Warren Wilson College. Her recent poetry is published or forthcoming in small print journals including Atlanta Review, Margie, North American Review, The Hudson Review, and Women’s Review of Books, earning awards including two Pushcart nominations in 2008. Dark Card and Mom’s Canoe won the 2007 and 2008 Robert Phillips Poetry Chapbook Prizes, and her full-length book, All That Gorgeous, Pitiless Song, won the 2008 Many Mountains Moving Poetry Book Award and will be released in 2010. Also to be released in 2010, by Tebot Bach Press, is God, Seed, a book of environmental poetry with art by Lorna Stevens.

Rebecca's favorite links for learning more about autism are:

www.taalliance.org
www.autism-society.org
www.autismspeaks.org
www.feat.org
www.asperger.org

_________________

DATING ANYONE?
—Mitz Sackman, Murphys

Everything else is instant
We live tied
To our electronic leashes
Palm pilots, iphenes, on and on
Slaves of the communication age speed
Why not speed dating?

We have that myth so sacred
Celebrated in all our entertainment
Delivered electronically of course
That oh so famous myth
Of love at first sight
Why not speed dating?

To avoid the horror
Of an evening, a drink
Or even just a coffee
With a bore or a leech or a lecher
Avoiding unwanted bed play
Why not speed dating?

An answer to the dilemma
Of meeting people looking
For someone new
Without all the fuss
Why not invest one evening
Meeting a lot of new ones
Why not speed dating?

__________________

BLIND DATE
—Taylor Graham, Placerville

He walks on stage and looks past footlights
into the dark. He’s a good 45 years too young
for me. No doubt he’s got a girl friend
in the audience. He smiles that secret smile
of a man who knows his lines by heart
but speaks them as if he only found the words
this very moment. It’s a poem I memorized
in high school, or maybe college. A man’s
in love with a star; his beloved is light-years
above, beyond him. An ageless tale, but
so beautifully archaic in meter and rhyme.
I’m sitting alone in the dark, listening blind
to a boy on stage. The spotlight’s on him.
For as long as it takes to recite sixteen
intricately laced lines, it’s just the two of us
and the poem.

___________________

HOW MUCH OF THE HEART LIES HID?
—Tom Goff, Carmichael

I read from Hillary Mantel’s book Wolf Hall
today: of Thomas Cromwell through arabesques
rising at Henry the Eighth’s court: no grotesque
(like her vain Sir Thomas More). Watch where gulfs fall
wide, and in them, the Wolseys of this world.
You, dear one, would enjoy it; though the odd reference
to history might slip by, quicksilver inference
would soon right your reading balance, truth unfurl.
Comfort, to know such traits; what troubles the heart
of late is whether, or how well, spouse knows spouse,
mind, heart, soul, body, lexicon of the house.
Yet does too much of this writer hide from you?
Completion of speech turn window? Hinder the view?
What can love speak to love? Let each to each impart.

Plant
Enhanced photo by D.R. Wagner

_________________

Today's LittleNip:

LIMERICK
—Conrad Aiken

It's time to make love. Douse the glim.
The fireflies twinkle and dim.
The stars lean together
Like birds of a feather,
And the loin lies down with the limb.

___________________

—Medusa (whew, Jeanine! 8:27—I just made it!)