The Silent Murmur of a Pen

BIRTHDAY CANDLE FOR EDWARD SCHOEN
February 14, 2005
—Katy Brown, Davis

Under a waxing moon, the clouds part to show a star:
one spark in the vast beyond.

You are as close as breathing on still nights like this.
I imagine you pointing over my shoulder
while you help me sight along your arm:
that’s Betelgeuse, the red star in the right shoulder of Orion:
the Hunter of Winter—see his belt? He chases the Bull.
You know your mother is a Taurus.
You named the summer wildflowers for me;
showed me how to catch a fence lizard with a blade of grass;
made flutes from alder branches; sang me lullabies.
You could tie a fly, dress a deer,
and nail a duck with a single shot.
You taught me it was wrong to kill for sport:
we ate every scrap of game and tanned the leather for clothes.

Your friend Rock would drive his rickety camper
from San Lorenzo just to “talk philosophy” with you.
When you were too sick to leave the house,
the priest came by to talk theology.

I try to explain to your granddaughter the rarity of comets
and lunar eclipses. And I try to tell your star-stories—
but lack your words.
You would have been 100 today.
A red candle gutters for you on my dark mantle.

(4th Honorable Mention, Ina Coolbrith Contest, 2005)

__________________________

Thanks, Katy! Katy is Marketeer-in-Residence for Rattlesnake Review; watch for her next column in Snake 8, due out in December. Have you sent in your poems (etc.) yet? Deadline is November 15, just one slim week from tomorrow!

In need of a quick $10,000? Semaj Publications in Denver writes to say: The Color My Poetry, Color it Mine, International Poetic Expressions Convention/$10,000.00 Poetry Contest will be held in beautiful Denver, Colorado from July 21st - July 23rd, 2006. This will be the best poetry Convention/contest ever presented/assembled. The Color My Poetry, Color it Mine, International Poetic Expressions Convention/$10,000.00 Poetry Contest mission is to unify people of all races, creed and colors from all over the world and let their voices be heard through their creative works of poetry. Contestants will be judged by a fair and unbiased panel of judges who shall award well deserved prizes to contest participants and winners.
For info, check www.semajpublicationsofdenver.com.

Catherine Fraga can be heard tonight at HQ (25th & R Sts., Sac.), sponsored by the Sacramento Poetry Center, 7:30 pm, or next Sunday (11/13) at the Barnes & Noble in Stockton (Weberstown Mall), courtesy of Poet's Corner Press, 7 pm. Info for Sunday: 209-951-7014.

Wednesday (11/9), Rattlesnake Press presents Allegra Jostad Silberstein at The Book Collector (1008 24th St., Sac.), 7:30-9 pm., to celebrate the release of her new chapbook, In The Folds. A read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else's. Also released that night will be Claudia Trnka's littlesnake broadside, Public Places, Private Spaces, and Snakelets 5, the journal of poetry from youngsters 0-12.

This Thursday (11/10), Suzanne Roberts appears at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sac., for Poetry Unplugged, 8 pm. And Friday (11/11), Mary Dawson and Beulah Amsterdam will read at the Davis Unitarian Church library, 27074 Patwin Rd., Davis, courtesy of The Other Voice reading series, 7:30 pm. Info: 530-753-2634.

Here is a taste from Allegra's new chapbook:

FLIGHTS
—Allegra Jostad Silberstein, Davis

A feather
floats
lifted into
a laughter
of leaves
turning and
returning
like thoughts
spiraling
in the silent
murmur
of a pen
brushing
words
on blue sky
lines.

_____________________

Thanks, Allegra!

—Medusa

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

Awake in Its Gold Dish

THE OCEAN MOVING ALL NIGHT
—Rumi

Stay with us. Don't sink to the bottom
like a fish going to sleep.
Be with the ocean moving steadily all night,
not scattered like a rainstorm.

The spring we're looking for
is somewhere in this murkiness.
See the night-lights up there traveling together,
the candle awake in its gold dish.

Don't slide into the cracks of ground like spilled mercury.
When the full moon comes out, look around.

_______________________

1652
—Rumi

We are the mirror as well as the face in it.
We are tasting the taste this minute
of eternity. We are pain
and what cures pain. We are
the sweet, cold water and the jar that pours.

_______________________

THE NEW RULE
—Rumi

It's the old rule that drunks have to argue
and get into fights.
The lover is just as bad: He falls into a hole.
But down in that hole he finds something shining,
worth more than any amount of money or power.

Last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street.
I took it as a a sign to start singing,
falling up into the bowl of sky.
The bowl breaks. Everywhere is falling everywhere.
Nothing else to do.

Here's the new rule: Break the wineglass,
and fall toward the glassblower's breath.

________________________

1319
—Rumi

We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups.
That's fine with us. Every morning
we glow and in the evening we glow again.

They say there's no future for us. They're right.
Which is fine with us.

_________________________

—Medusa

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

Cherish the Lithesome Snake

PRAYER OF TREE SPIRITS
—Patricia L. Nichol, Sacramento

Oh, Great Being, hear our spirits housed in trees:
grant that we may be safe in our wooden shelters,
grant that we may anchor the sky to the earth,
grant that we may be full of your essence,
grant that we may revel in tree dances.

Oh, Great Being, let us ever transform with the light:
grow toward the solstice in the descending of the year,
grow toward greater life in the fulsome darkness,
grow to greater heights in the season of the sun,
grow until we become one with your great essence.

Oh, Great Being, may we be a habitation for all life:
shield and cherish the smallest nestling bird,
shield and cherish the lithesome snake,
shield and cherish the rooting life below,
shield and cherish our congruence with the divine.

__________________________

Thanks, Pat! This poem brings two things to mind today: the article in the Bee about the parrots in San Francisco losing one of their trees (did you see the movie about them?), and JoAnn Anglin's recent forward re: an artist who is doing a tree anthology and is looking for tree poems. Sorry; I've lost JoAnn's letter, but she might still have the information. Write to me if you need her address to get the OTHER address... Submitting to private anthologies is always tricky, since you don't know who you're working with or what (or when!) the final project will be, but heck, it might be fun.

If you're in the mood for a daytrip, Livermore's first Poet Laureate, Connie Post, writes to say that David Alpaugh and Robert Sward will be reading at the Martinelli Conference and Event Center tomorrow (Sunday 11/6) from 2-4 pm, 3585 Greenville Rd. in Livermore. Go to www.garrewinery.com for a map. Info: connie@poetrypost.com.

OR—head up to Oroville TODAY for the 13th Annual North Valley Belly Dance Competition at the State Theatre, 1489 Meyers St., 5:30-11 pm. ($12) Info: 530-589-0416 or www.homestead.com/bellydancecomp/welcome.html. Why am I posting a belly dance competition on a poetry site? Just because...

Two KILLER websites for poets: Bob's ByWay, a VERY comprehensive glossary of poetic terms (do you know what catachreses is? Epitrite? Epizeuxis?), and Jan Haag's The Desolation Poems, which is a compendium of examples of poems in various forms. She doesn't list the schematic for these forms, but has examples from most of them neatly catalogued. No need for addresses on either; just type in "Bob's ByWay" or "The Desolation Poems". (Who knows why Jan Haag calls them that...)

Let the mea culpas begin: Kate Wells' wonderful "Totem" poem got left out of the last Snake, so I promised I'd publish it shamelessly around town. I'm posting it here today because (1) it seems to go with Pat Nichol's tree poem [above] and (2) let it serve to warn you that the next Snake deadline is November 15. Oh—and don't forget the Towe Auto Museum poetry contest deadline is also November 15; see previous posts or the last Snake for details.


TOTEM
—Kate Wells, Placerville

Six black buzzards
collect on the dirt road.
Robes spread to catch
sun. They caucus
growing heat.
Let us circle.
Let us dine.
Let us pray the day
to death,
life,
wind.

____________________

Thanks, Kate!

—Medusa

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

God's Flashlight

Last week I wandered upstate and visited Poet Patricia Wellingham-Jones at her lovely estate in Tehama, outside of Red Bluff. She graciously invited some other poets, including Ray Dunn from Red Bluff and Joy Harold Helsing from Magalia. A wonderful time was had by all. Yes, there is a poetry life north of Roseville!—and maybe poets find each other even more precious when distances have to be traveled…

Anyway, here are two from Ray, who has been in every issue of the Snake since its inception:


THE BEST
—Ray Dunn, Red Bluff

You won't ever own
A ranch in Argentina.

You won't ever own
The Nobel Peace Prize.

You won't ever own
A home in Beverly Hills.

You won't ever own
A Picasso painting.

You won't ever own
The Los Angeles Lakers.

You won't ever own
The Hope Diamond.

But you should own
Something that is the best,

So what does it matter,
If it's only your love life?

_______________________

KENTUCKY HUNT—1935
—Ray Dunn, Red Bluff

Persimmons—black,
Ripe and sweet;
Ready for eating.

Hickory nuts—
Scaly Barks,
Big fat ones,
Down by the creek,
Beginning to fall.

Moon—coming
On full—hanging
In the sky,
God's flashlight.

Air—cold enough
To hear a dog barking
Ten miles away.

Last chicken eaten
A month back—nothing
To eat but sop and biscuits.

Possum hunting time;
Going possum hunting;
Fill the larder;
Fill the bellies;
Me, Maw, and the kids.

_________________________

Thanks, Ray! Also, Pat Simonelli sent me this letter; Pat lives in Citrus Heights and has an on-line journal, LitVision (www.litvision.org), which is very cool:

I'm a small press publisher (LitVision Press) out in Citrus Heights. We recently released our first book, Bukowski Never Did This: A Year in the Life of An Underground Writer and His Family, by Jack Saunders. Bukowski Never Did This is essentially a slice-of-life memoir, a combination of Novel and Diary entries with some very interesting poetry mixed in. It's about Jack's struggle to balance his writing vocation with professional career, while raising a family.

Jack is a Florida writer who's been writing novels nonstop for 34 years! He has a small "cult" following of underground readers, but has mostly been ignored by the mainstream. He's written over 265 books, 9 of which have been published...3 by small presses like mine, and 6 self-published. Please check us out at http://www.litvision.org/buk.html for reviews, excerpts, and purchasing info. I'd also like to chat with you and find out what's going on in the local small press scene, so even if you don't dig the book, please drop me an email!

Thanks,
Pat Simonelli
LitVision Press

________________________

—Medusa

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

A Little Red

Medusa loves to hear about herself:


THE HIGH COST OF MEDUSA'S COIL
—Ellaraine Lockie, Sunnyvale

A little lonely in London after two weeks
of alien talk in foreign lands
I find an Internet-for-fee café
for some camaraderie
of the electronic kind

I click on Medusa’s Kitchen
with its ophidian allure
And decide to print
rather than pay ten pence a
minute to ponder

Not until I’m tucked into bed
in my Bloomsbury B & B
Do I compute 18 pages
at 40 pence a page
equates $14.25

______________________

And worth every penny, right??? SO COOL that you thought of us, though, all that way across the pond...

The new Poetry Now came from Sacramento Poetry Center; this is another happenin' weekend in TomatoTown. Tonight, Luna's Cafe will feature Angela-Dee-Alforque, together with the usual lively line-up of open mic'ers. 8 pm-ish, 1414 16th St., Sac. Info: 441-3831.

Barnes and Noble in Citrus Heights continues its open mic series tomorrow (Friday 11/4) at 7 pm, 6111 Sunrise Blvd., Citrus Hts.

Saturday (11/5), Escritores del Nuevo Sol will hold its monthly writing workshop and putluck, 11 a.m., La Raza Galeria Posada (15th & R Sts., Sac., second floor). Info: 456-5323.

Sunday (11/6), PoemSpirits presents Sacramentan Kimberly White at the Sacramento Unitarian Church, 2425 Sierra Blvd., Sac., 6 pm (Rms. 7/8, around back). Info: 451-1372.

And Monday (11/7) the Sacramento Poetry Center will feature Catherine Fraga (HQ, 26th & R Sts., Sac.), 7:30 pm.

Bill Gainer writes from Grass Valley: Neeli Cherkovski has been awarded the 2004 PEN OAKLAND JOSEPHINE MILES NATIONAL AWARD FOR OUTSTANDING WRITING for his book, Leaning Against Time. Neeli is on cloud-nine and we here at R.L. Crow Publications can't stop spinning! The presentation ceremony is December 2, at the Oakland Civic Auditorium; you know we will be there! Congratulations to Bill's press for this outstanding achievement!

Let's end with a little whimsey:


A RED HAT
—Gertrude Stein

A dark grey, a very dark grey, a quite dark grey is monstrous ordinarily, it is so monstrous because there is no red in it. If red is in everything it is not necessary. Is that not an argument for any use of it and even so is there any place that is better, is there any place that has so much stretched out.

___________________________

—Medusa

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

A Winnah

It was requested that Medusa print some of the Sacramento prize-winning poems from the Ina Coolbrith contest we hammered recently, so here are two from Don Feliz:


LIGHTING RUBE GOLDBURG'S FIRE
—Don Feliz, Sacramento

air cools at sundown,
shrinks balloon

which slips from tube,
releases cage door

for cat chased by dog,
that jumps off board

which falls and unwinds
string releasing weight

above cigar lighter
igniting paper fuse

igniting prepared
campfire kindling

_________________________

DINING OUT IN THE DARK CITY
(San Francisco 1950)

Friday after school I dress up in
slacks, a new shirt and sports coat.

Mom wears her best dress, high-
heeled shoes, white gloves. Dad

looks dapper in his suit and tie.
We drive through city streets

between the dark canyons of
tall buildings, parking before

dark. We walk past closed
offices, open bars and clubs,

to the International Settlement—
one block of night life and bright

lights, crowded with excitement-seekers
and sellers. Inside Lucca’s, candle-

light creates glowing islands at each
table. A tuxedoed waiter serves

antipasto. With an Italian accent
he describes specials and offers

menus listing pasta, veal scaloppini,
and chicken cacciatore. He pours wine,

even for me, and we pretend we are
in Naples, or Florence. Walking back

to our car in the now-dark alley, we
look into an open basement window

and see rows of Chinese women bent
over sewing machines, piles of cut-out

fabric pieces, stacks of finished shirts. A
single light bulbs swings in the smoky air.

___________________________

Thanks, Don!

—Medusa

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

I'm Ba-a-a-a-ck...

QUETZAL
—Carol Frith, Sacramento

A snake? I've forgotten how to write
a serpent. Quetzal, with your feathered scales
and brother to the moon? A god, not quite
a snake. And I've forgotten how to write
about the moon, who slept with you, her light
a memory that all light somehow fails.
Bright snake, I've forgotten how to write
about you... Quetzal with your feathered scales.

______________________

Today is Carol Frith's birthday. Carol, who regularly takes top honors and who co-edits Ekphrasis with her husband, Laverne Frith, is one of the premier poets of Sacramento. T.S. Eliot is her favorite poet; hear the last section of Tom's "East Coker"—fitting food for thought on any birthday:


Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here and there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

________________________

Happy Birthday, Frannie-Alice! I am so sorry I keep running off to the sea...

—Medusa

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