THE CLOSED WORLD
—Denise Levertov
If the Perceptive Organs close, their Objects seem to close also.
—Blake: Jerusalem
The house snake dwells here still
under the threshold
but for months I have not seen it
nor its young, the inheritors.
Light and the wind enact
passion and resurrection
day in, day out
but the blinds are down over my windows,
my doors are shut.
When after the long drought at last
silver and darkness swept over the hills
the dry indifferent glare in my mind's eye
wavered but burned on.
__________________________
POETRY CALENDAR 2007
A desk calendar and a poetry anthology in one, Alhambra's Poetry Calendar 2007 contains 365 poems by 330 poets. Meant for your desktop or bedside table, the calendar showcases work by some of the best British and American poets from the 14th to the 21st century. Rediscover your favorite classic poems and explore exciting work by well-established, as well as emerging, poets. Poetry calendars are also available in French and German. For more details, visit: http://www.alhambrapublishing.com
Cal Poly Journal Looking for Submissions:
Harvest International, an annual arts and literature magazine produced by Cal Poly Pomona, is calling for submissions for its 2007 deadline, January 27, 2007. They’re looking for Poetry, Short Poetry, Fiction, Drama, Song Lyrics, Personal Essays, Analytical/Critical Essays, and Artwork (pen/ink drawings; no color artwork, please).
Topics:
• Psychological/Physical/Learning disabilities
• Gender Issues
• Culture
• War
• Poetry written in any language
• Personal Experiences/Triumphs, etc.
Cash Awards:
Steve Whaley Poetry Prize
Other Voices Poetry Prize
Submit to: Professor Gill-Mayberry: bigillmayber@csupomona.edu
Jennifer Maldonado: jnmaldonado.harvest@gmail.com
Megan Carey: mecarey@csupomona.edu or:
Harvest International, c/o Harvest Editorial Board
Cal Poly University, English and Foreign Languages Department
3801 West Temple Ave., Pomona, CA 91768
Coming up this week:
•••Tonight (Monday, 1/8): Attend the Sacramento Poetry Center Board of Directors meeting at 5:45 PM, then stay for Best of 2006: An Open Mic Opportunity at 7 PM at HQ, 1719 25th St., Sac. Bring your best two pieces from last year and read them out loud (note the special starting time). Hosted by Indigo Moor.
•••Weds., 1/10, 7:30 PM: Rattlesnake Press presents Pearl Stein Selinsky reading from her new rattlechap, Vic & Me, at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sac. Read-around follows; bring your own poems or somebody else's.
•••Also on Weds., 8 PM: Students of the UC-Davis MA program present writers Scott Bransford, Monica Storss, and Jeanine Peters. Café Roma, 3rd & University Streets, Davis.
•••Then later on Weds. (10-midnt.), features and open mic at Mics and Moods, Capitol Garage, 1500 K St., Sac. Ages 21 and up. $5. Info: 916-492-9336 or www.malikspeaks.com.
•••Thurs. (1/11), 8 PM: Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sac. Open mic before/after. Free. Info: 916-441-3931 or www.lunascafe.com.
•••Also Thurs., 8-11 PM: Vibe Sessions at Cobbler Inn, 3520 Stockton Blvd. (next to Colonial Theater). All ages; $5. Open mic.
•••Friday (1/12): JACK LONDON'S BIRTHDAY. Jack London lived in Oakland and Alameda in the Bay Area and became world-famous. He was a student at UC Berkeley, attended Oakland High, and also attended school in Alameda. Bring your own style of poems (and your cameras) to commemorate yourself celebrating his birthday, Jan 12, by visiting the site of Jack London's birthplace, which is marked by a plaque, at Third and Brannan, in San Francisco, to read poems, place flowers and take photos. This continues a tradition for poets for more than 15 years, begun by the Bay Area Poets Coalition (BAPC). The Alameda Island Poets and others have been carrying on this tradition, and have been joined in this celebration through the years by the Not-Yet-Dead-Poets Society, Artists Embassy International, Poets of the Vineyard members, and other groups, Creative Writing classes and educators. All are welcome to join the poets at the San Francisco site, Jan 12, 10-11AM, and also to attend the FREE afternoon birthday party ( with birthday cake) and poetry reading PLUS OPEN READING at the Alameda Historical Museum, 1:30-3:00 PM, 2324 Alameda Ave., Alameda.
•••Sat. (1/13), 3-5 PM: Patricity's In Spirit & Truth Series at 61 Yuence Smoked BBQ & Grill, 9657 Folsom Blvd. (off Bradshaw). Features plus open mic. Free. Info: 916-361-2014.
•••Sunday (1/14), 2:30-4:30 PM: Poets on the Ridge Poetry Reading (Open Mic) at Juice & Java, 7067 Skyway, Paradise, CA. Info: 530-872-9633.
•••Sunday (1/14), 6 PM: The Poet is a Thief of Fire features frank andrick, Becca Costello and special guests at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sac. $10; this is a benefit reading to help frank with his medical costs. Info: 916-442-9295. [NOTE: As of 1/10, this reading has been postponed until March.]
______________________
THE UNDERLYING MESSAGE
—Sal Amico M. Buttaci, Lodi, New Jersey
your poems tell me life goes on
that in every breath of wind
shadows of the spoken word
darken abandoned streets
and no one truly dies.
your poems cry out in every line
that God created us
to live forever
and that we are so much more
than this finite world we live in.
your poems are meant to give hope
to those who mistakenly
put their stock in the wrong world
when they should be planning
how to spend eternity
_______________________
Thanks, Sal! Sal Buttaci has been a regular Snake contributor from the start, and now he also sends his middle-school students' poems to VYPER, which is a huge help. He and his students hail from Lodi—New Jersey, that is.....!
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
Monday, January 08, 2007
Sunday, January 07, 2007
All Spoke the Same Language
MAGIC WORDS
—after Nalungiaq
In the very earliest time,
when both people and animals lived on earth,
a person could become an animal if he wanted to
and an animal could become a human being.
Sometimes they were people
and sometimes animals
and there was no difference.
All spoke the same language.
That was the time when words were like magic.
The human mind had mysterious powers.
A word spoken by chance
might have strange consequences.
It would suddenly come alive
and what people wanted to happen could happen—
all you had to do was say it.
Nobody can explain this:
That's the way it was.
________________________
LO, THE POOR INDIAN
—Alexander Pope
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul, proud Science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk, or milky way;
Yet simple Nature to his hope has giv'n,
Behind the cloud-topp'd hill, an humbler heav'n;
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd,
Some happier island in the wat'ry waste,
Where slaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
To be, contents his natural desire,
He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;
But think, admitted to that equal sky,
His faithful dog shall bear him company.
_______________________
OFFERING
—Zuni
This is what I want to happen: that our earth mother
may be clothed in ground corn four times over;
that frost flowers cover her over entirely;
that the mountain pines far away over there
may stand close to each other in the cold;
that the weight of snow crack some branches!
In order that the country may be this way
I have made my prayer sticks into something alive.
(adapted by Robert Bly from the translation by Ruth Bunzel)
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
—after Nalungiaq
In the very earliest time,
when both people and animals lived on earth,
a person could become an animal if he wanted to
and an animal could become a human being.
Sometimes they were people
and sometimes animals
and there was no difference.
All spoke the same language.
That was the time when words were like magic.
The human mind had mysterious powers.
A word spoken by chance
might have strange consequences.
It would suddenly come alive
and what people wanted to happen could happen—
all you had to do was say it.
Nobody can explain this:
That's the way it was.
________________________
LO, THE POOR INDIAN
—Alexander Pope
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul, proud Science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk, or milky way;
Yet simple Nature to his hope has giv'n,
Behind the cloud-topp'd hill, an humbler heav'n;
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd,
Some happier island in the wat'ry waste,
Where slaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
To be, contents his natural desire,
He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;
But think, admitted to that equal sky,
His faithful dog shall bear him company.
_______________________
OFFERING
—Zuni
This is what I want to happen: that our earth mother
may be clothed in ground corn four times over;
that frost flowers cover her over entirely;
that the mountain pines far away over there
may stand close to each other in the cold;
that the weight of snow crack some branches!
In order that the country may be this way
I have made my prayer sticks into something alive.
(adapted by Robert Bly from the translation by Ruth Bunzel)
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
Saturday, January 06, 2007
When the Roads are Bad
The blog roads are "bad" today, apparently, and this is late because of some kind of blogspot glitch. For those of you who managed to get here, let's just chew this over, wait for the dust to clear:
ALL THE FRUIT
—Friedrich Holderlin
All the fruit is ripe, plunged in fire, cooked,
And they have passed their test on earth, and one law is this:
That everything curls inward, like snakes,
Prophetic, dreaming on
The hills of heaven. And many things
Have to stay on the shoulders like a load
of failure. However the roads
Are bad. For the chained elements,
Like horses, are going off to the side,
And the old
Laws of the earth. And a longing
For disintegration constantly comes. Many things however
Have to stay on the shoulders. Steadiness is essential.
Forwards, however, or backwards we will
Not look. Let us learn to live swaying
As in a rocking boat on the sea.
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
ALL THE FRUIT
—Friedrich Holderlin
All the fruit is ripe, plunged in fire, cooked,
And they have passed their test on earth, and one law is this:
That everything curls inward, like snakes,
Prophetic, dreaming on
The hills of heaven. And many things
Have to stay on the shoulders like a load
of failure. However the roads
Are bad. For the chained elements,
Like horses, are going off to the side,
And the old
Laws of the earth. And a longing
For disintegration constantly comes. Many things however
Have to stay on the shoulders. Steadiness is essential.
Forwards, however, or backwards we will
Not look. Let us learn to live swaying
As in a rocking boat on the sea.
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
Friday, January 05, 2007
And Snow It Goes...
THE SUCHNESS OF THINGS
—Patricia A. Pashby, Sacramento
The New Year
chugs into the station—
a freight train hauling
seventy-five boxcars
stuffed with a lifetime
of incidents.
It will stop awhile,
then slowly move on
down the line,
adding a car, or two,
ending the journey
on a siding
where weeds grow
between the tracks . . .
_______________________
Thanks, Pat! Look for Pat's littlesnake broadside, Potpourri, at The Book Collector (free), or send me an SASE at POBox 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726 and I'll mail you one.
Other Nor-Cal poets are also checking in today, tying up loose ends about moving, snow, the holidays:
HOLIDAY SHADOWS
—Dewell H. Byrd, Eureka
Shadows need sunshine to survive,
rumors need shadows.
Guests gather
for the holiday feast
gift laden
food
drink.
Greetings vary
fawning
cool.
Rumors skirt
between hugs,
last year's
hurts.
Momma soothes like warm chocolate.
Papa kicks up dust 'round the tax base.
Kids romp, hide,
sense uneasiness.
Food mixes with alcohol,
football, competition.
Old hurts
patina relationships,
jealousies.
Hot breath of guilt
slathered.
"Why don't you visit more often?"
"We get lonely, you know."
Rumors create shadows,
shadows on shadows,
sunshine or no.
_______________________
SPACE COWBOY
—David Humphreys, Stockton
Skiing started to change the Rockies back then
from chaps, spurs and shiny leather
to snowflake sweaters, liederhausen and rioja bota bags
squeezed out with too much sun, white zinc
glacier goggle lens black against the glare.
Pommel horns standing up like Spain
still as stubborn as a branding calf's lariat
looped around the moon eagle's lunar landing,
boot heels, stirrups and a wide brimmed hat's bandanna
wrapped around the start of another day.
His levis faded from wearing like work that wasn't,
boots cut plain with mother of pearl snaps
while his dad built ski lifts into the golden aspens
with elk river bugling mule deer antler racks
and a by-god thirty-thirty point of view,
acid his catalytic cultural fusion
thermonuclear bikini atoll, two-part epoxy
though he lost his spleen
when he hit a tree in the out of bounds powder
one lonely wasted day.
A better skier than anything else he did,
turns carved smoother than bow strung whispers
in love with an Indian princess
and a lightly strummed guitar.
But the work he did with a rope
was like tethering a space walk crystal clear
above the oceans, clouds and drifting continents
mirrored in his helmet's visor.
________________________
Thanks, David and Dewell!
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
—Patricia A. Pashby, Sacramento
The New Year
chugs into the station—
a freight train hauling
seventy-five boxcars
stuffed with a lifetime
of incidents.
It will stop awhile,
then slowly move on
down the line,
adding a car, or two,
ending the journey
on a siding
where weeds grow
between the tracks . . .
_______________________
Thanks, Pat! Look for Pat's littlesnake broadside, Potpourri, at The Book Collector (free), or send me an SASE at POBox 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726 and I'll mail you one.
Other Nor-Cal poets are also checking in today, tying up loose ends about moving, snow, the holidays:
HOLIDAY SHADOWS
—Dewell H. Byrd, Eureka
Shadows need sunshine to survive,
rumors need shadows.
Guests gather
for the holiday feast
gift laden
food
drink.
Greetings vary
fawning
cool.
Rumors skirt
between hugs,
last year's
hurts.
Momma soothes like warm chocolate.
Papa kicks up dust 'round the tax base.
Kids romp, hide,
sense uneasiness.
Food mixes with alcohol,
football, competition.
Old hurts
patina relationships,
jealousies.
Hot breath of guilt
slathered.
"Why don't you visit more often?"
"We get lonely, you know."
Rumors create shadows,
shadows on shadows,
sunshine or no.
_______________________
SPACE COWBOY
—David Humphreys, Stockton
Skiing started to change the Rockies back then
from chaps, spurs and shiny leather
to snowflake sweaters, liederhausen and rioja bota bags
squeezed out with too much sun, white zinc
glacier goggle lens black against the glare.
Pommel horns standing up like Spain
still as stubborn as a branding calf's lariat
looped around the moon eagle's lunar landing,
boot heels, stirrups and a wide brimmed hat's bandanna
wrapped around the start of another day.
His levis faded from wearing like work that wasn't,
boots cut plain with mother of pearl snaps
while his dad built ski lifts into the golden aspens
with elk river bugling mule deer antler racks
and a by-god thirty-thirty point of view,
acid his catalytic cultural fusion
thermonuclear bikini atoll, two-part epoxy
though he lost his spleen
when he hit a tree in the out of bounds powder
one lonely wasted day.
A better skier than anything else he did,
turns carved smoother than bow strung whispers
in love with an Indian princess
and a lightly strummed guitar.
But the work he did with a rope
was like tethering a space walk crystal clear
above the oceans, clouds and drifting continents
mirrored in his helmet's visor.
________________________
Thanks, David and Dewell!
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
Thursday, January 04, 2007
A Mind of Winter
THE SNOW MAN
—Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
_______________________
PCP Chapbook Contest:
Poet's Corner Press announces its annual Chapbook Poetry Contest! Camille Norton, winner of the National Poetry Series Contest, will judge. Deadline for submission is March 1, 2007. The First Place Award of $500 will be announced June 1, 2007. Send your manuscript of 24 text pages of poetry with $20 reading fee, check or money order made out to:
Poet's Corner Press
8049 Thornton Rd.
Stockton, CA 95209
Further info: http://www.poetscornerpress.com/Competition.html#poet
Pleasanton Poetry Fest:
The 6th Annual Pleasanton Poetry, Prose and Arts Festival will be held on Saturday, March 31, 2007 at the CarrAmerica Conference Center, 4400 Rosewood Drive in Pleasanton. This all-day Festival will include poetry and prose workshops for all ages, poetry and prose contests for festival participants with over $1,200 in prizes, a fine arts show, book signings, “Literary’ Row,” music and an awards banquet. This year’s event will include presentations by Al Young, California Poet Laureate and Michael Chabon, Pulitzer-Prize winning novelist and screenwriter. Morning workshops include:
* The Lyrical Poem (Adult Poetry) presented by Gail & Charles Entrekin
* Monster Poems: Addressing the Shadow (Adult Poetry) presented by Armand Brint
* Making It Beautiful, No Matter What (Adult Poetry) presented by Susan Browne
* The Mask Speaks (Youth Poetry) presented by Grace Marie Grafton
* The Memory Thief (Adult and Teen Prose) presented by Lewis Buzbee.
Afternoon workshops include:
* The Sensory Experience (Adult Poetry) presented by Gail & Charles Entrekin
* An Animal Wearing My Clothes (Adult Poetry) presented by Armand Brint
* Making It Beautiful, No Matter What (Adult Poetry) presented by Susan Browne
* Writing & Illustrating Children’s Books (Adult and Teen Prose) presented by Elisa Kleven
* Whose House is This? (Adult and Teen Prose) presented by Lewis Buzbee.
Poetry and prose contest entries by all age groups must be submitted with early registration (must register to enter contests). Registration information and contest entry instructions are now available at the PCAC website, www.pleasantonarts.org, by contacting Michelle Russo at City of Pleasanton Civic Arts, (925) 931-5350, or contacting Kirk Ridgeway at PleasantonPoetry@comcast.net.
_______________________
WINTER SCENE
—Marguerite Young
So earth's inclined toward the one invisible,
The prince of space, and yet he was disproved,
But this is her nuptial night, a cruel season
As limbless lizards coil together in love
And her whiteness veils over the dog-faced owl,
Whitness veils over the frozen streams, the moon,
And the deer islanded without family,
Nuzzling cold tulips. Whiteness veils over the sea,
And the heart of the snail is beating slow.
But as an early bride, with heaven's rose
She is adorned, she is wound in seven veils
Even as a bride going forth to the bridegroom,
And her whiteness veils over the scarred fields.
She is celebrant for the failure of a theory,
And the white ptarmigan treads in the snow among the low hills.
________________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
—Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
_______________________
PCP Chapbook Contest:
Poet's Corner Press announces its annual Chapbook Poetry Contest! Camille Norton, winner of the National Poetry Series Contest, will judge. Deadline for submission is March 1, 2007. The First Place Award of $500 will be announced June 1, 2007. Send your manuscript of 24 text pages of poetry with $20 reading fee, check or money order made out to:
Poet's Corner Press
8049 Thornton Rd.
Stockton, CA 95209
Further info: http://www.poetscornerpress.com/Competition.html#poet
Pleasanton Poetry Fest:
The 6th Annual Pleasanton Poetry, Prose and Arts Festival will be held on Saturday, March 31, 2007 at the CarrAmerica Conference Center, 4400 Rosewood Drive in Pleasanton. This all-day Festival will include poetry and prose workshops for all ages, poetry and prose contests for festival participants with over $1,200 in prizes, a fine arts show, book signings, “Literary’ Row,” music and an awards banquet. This year’s event will include presentations by Al Young, California Poet Laureate and Michael Chabon, Pulitzer-Prize winning novelist and screenwriter. Morning workshops include:
* The Lyrical Poem (Adult Poetry) presented by Gail & Charles Entrekin
* Monster Poems: Addressing the Shadow (Adult Poetry) presented by Armand Brint
* Making It Beautiful, No Matter What (Adult Poetry) presented by Susan Browne
* The Mask Speaks (Youth Poetry) presented by Grace Marie Grafton
* The Memory Thief (Adult and Teen Prose) presented by Lewis Buzbee.
Afternoon workshops include:
* The Sensory Experience (Adult Poetry) presented by Gail & Charles Entrekin
* An Animal Wearing My Clothes (Adult Poetry) presented by Armand Brint
* Making It Beautiful, No Matter What (Adult Poetry) presented by Susan Browne
* Writing & Illustrating Children’s Books (Adult and Teen Prose) presented by Elisa Kleven
* Whose House is This? (Adult and Teen Prose) presented by Lewis Buzbee.
Poetry and prose contest entries by all age groups must be submitted with early registration (must register to enter contests). Registration information and contest entry instructions are now available at the PCAC website, www.pleasantonarts.org, by contacting Michelle Russo at City of Pleasanton Civic Arts, (925) 931-5350, or contacting Kirk Ridgeway at PleasantonPoetry@comcast.net.
_______________________
WINTER SCENE
—Marguerite Young
So earth's inclined toward the one invisible,
The prince of space, and yet he was disproved,
But this is her nuptial night, a cruel season
As limbless lizards coil together in love
And her whiteness veils over the dog-faced owl,
Whitness veils over the frozen streams, the moon,
And the deer islanded without family,
Nuzzling cold tulips. Whiteness veils over the sea,
And the heart of the snail is beating slow.
But as an early bride, with heaven's rose
She is adorned, she is wound in seven veils
Even as a bride going forth to the bridegroom,
And her whiteness veils over the scarred fields.
She is celebrant for the failure of a theory,
And the white ptarmigan treads in the snow among the low hills.
________________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Anatomy of January
ANATOMY OF JANUARY
—Miroslav Holub
On the carpal bones
metacarpal bones with vanishing cartilege,
the ulnar
like a ruler for parakeets.
A string is attached to the joint,
a string that goes over the horizon,
southwest.
Rooks are falling from the sky,
under oath.
(translated from the Czech by David Young and Miroslav Holub)
_______________________
January Boot Camp:
Molly Fisk of Nevada City writes: January's Boot Camp begins on Sunday 1/21 and
runs through Friday 1/26. Remember, you can join the regular camp and write new poems, or you can join me to work on revisions by yourself (same format, same price). This is a great time of year to look at older poems and see what they might need to be presentable. If you don't know about Poetry Boot Camp, here's where you can find out: http://www.poetrybootcamp.com. It's a six-day workshop conducted via e-mail—enormously productive, and tons of fun.
_______________________
LIVING OUT OF BOXES
—Stephani Schaefer, Los Molinos
I look at my list:
milk
bread
prunes
companion
at least a new book
library closed
nothing on TV
refrigerator drones
solitaire's good
no cards
put cards on list
_______________________
Thanks, Steph!
Time for a little Russell Edson, just to put some balance into things:
THE TURKEY HAPPENING
—Russell Edson
There were feathers growing on his wall. Thickly. And with pink turkey flesh beneath.
The feathers were spreading across the ceiling. And the floor was beginning to protrude in scaly bird toes like the roots of trees.
He could not tell if he had not now become himself feathers and turkey flesh.
He wondered if he was not now feathers and turkey flesh.
_______________________
A JOURNEY THROUGH THE MOONLIGHT
—Russell Edson
In sleep when an old man's body is no longer aware of its boundaries and lies flattened by gravity like a mere of wax in its bed . . . It drips down to the floor and moves there like a tear down a cheek . . . Under the back door into the silver meadow, like a pool of sperm, frosty under the moon, as if in his first nature, boneless and absurd.
The moon lifts him up into its white field, a cloud shaped like an old man, porous with stars.
He floats through high dark branches, a corpse tangled in a tree on a river.
________________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
—Miroslav Holub
On the carpal bones
metacarpal bones with vanishing cartilege,
the ulnar
like a ruler for parakeets.
A string is attached to the joint,
a string that goes over the horizon,
southwest.
Rooks are falling from the sky,
under oath.
(translated from the Czech by David Young and Miroslav Holub)
_______________________
January Boot Camp:
Molly Fisk of Nevada City writes: January's Boot Camp begins on Sunday 1/21 and
runs through Friday 1/26. Remember, you can join the regular camp and write new poems, or you can join me to work on revisions by yourself (same format, same price). This is a great time of year to look at older poems and see what they might need to be presentable. If you don't know about Poetry Boot Camp, here's where you can find out: http://www.poetrybootcamp.com. It's a six-day workshop conducted via e-mail—enormously productive, and tons of fun.
_______________________
LIVING OUT OF BOXES
—Stephani Schaefer, Los Molinos
I look at my list:
milk
bread
prunes
companion
at least a new book
library closed
nothing on TV
refrigerator drones
solitaire's good
no cards
put cards on list
_______________________
Thanks, Steph!
Time for a little Russell Edson, just to put some balance into things:
THE TURKEY HAPPENING
—Russell Edson
There were feathers growing on his wall. Thickly. And with pink turkey flesh beneath.
The feathers were spreading across the ceiling. And the floor was beginning to protrude in scaly bird toes like the roots of trees.
He could not tell if he had not now become himself feathers and turkey flesh.
He wondered if he was not now feathers and turkey flesh.
_______________________
A JOURNEY THROUGH THE MOONLIGHT
—Russell Edson
In sleep when an old man's body is no longer aware of its boundaries and lies flattened by gravity like a mere of wax in its bed . . . It drips down to the floor and moves there like a tear down a cheek . . . Under the back door into the silver meadow, like a pool of sperm, frosty under the moon, as if in his first nature, boneless and absurd.
The moon lifts him up into its white field, a cloud shaped like an old man, porous with stars.
He floats through high dark branches, a corpse tangled in a tree on a river.
________________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Still Without An Answer
BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON
—Mediha Saliba, Burnt Ranch, CA
Her body followed the moon
for a lifetime. Waxing
and waning and
bloating with fullness.
And the breathing in
and the breathing out alone,
passed her through time, until
she stood in the deep darkness
of the new moon.
A silent calling pulled
her to a place where
listening is loud, sanity
is on edges, and change
comes in tides of emotions.
But the She that rises
on a silver sliver
blinks in the night sky
with sharpened vision.
And the breathing in and listening
and the breathing out and laughing
dances her to the full moon
and the energy of elders.
________________________
Thanks, Mediha! A new voice heard from in Nor-Cal! And a new locale.
Medusa Returns!
After a holiday/moving house hiatus, we're back. The rest of Snake 12 will go out this week, and we're gearing up for the release of Pearl Stein Selinsky's new chapbook, Vic & Me, which will be premiered at a reading on Weds., Jan. 10 at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento. Medusa is always hungry; send your poems in for posting to kathykieth@hotmail.com, or to our new p.o. box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. We're still not very organized in our new digs, but the poetry community is waking up, and so it's time for us to, also.
This week, the poetry beast begins to stir again:
•••Don Anderson of Stockton writes: We are looking for material to fill the pages of our latest publishing project, Sun Shadow Mountain, a 6”x 9” perfect-bound paperback of approx. 169 pages which will be made available for sale online at www.lulu.com. We are now accepting as many submissions as possible; all submissions are reviewed and selected upon relevance to the theme. The closing date for submissions is Thursday, January 4th, 2007; those received earliest are most likely to get a higher priority for available space, except where aesthetics dictate. Submissions requirements are very specific, so for further info, contact Donald Anderson at P.O. Box 121, Farmington, CA 95230 (too_live_forever@yahoo.com), (209) 943-2449; or Nikki Quismondo (pisces03142001@yahoo.com), (209) 474-7099.
•••Sal Amico M. Buttaci of Lodi, New Jersey, writes: Winter is here and I am looking for some good poems to post at The Poem Factory http://www.freewebs.com/sambpoet/ Why not send me up to five of your poems? Keep them under 24 lines long. And include a very brief bio of yourself. Send it all to me at sambpoet@yahoo.com.
•••Thurs., 1/4, 8 PM: Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sac. presents Sacramento Poet Laureate Julia Connor. Open mic before/after. Info: 916-441-3931 or www.lunascafe.com. Free.
•••Sat., 1/6, 11 AM: All are invited to the monthly Escritores del Nuevo Sol / Writers of the New Sun writing workshop/potluck at La Raza Galeria Posada, 1024 22nd Street, Sacramento. Info: call Graciela at 916-456-5323.
•••Sat., 1/6, 7 PM: First Saturday Poetry Series at Sojourner Truth Art Center, 2251 Florin Rd., Sac. Hosted by Noah Hayes and Felicia McGee. All ages. $5. Come early for workshop. Info: www.malikspeaks.com
•••Sunday, 1/7, 6 PM: All are welcome when the PoemSpirits of the Unitarian Universalist Society of Sacramento assemble on Sunday, January 7th at 6:00 PM. The invited feature reader is Geoffrey Stockdale, a full-time professor of Speech at American River College, and a much-published Sacramento poet. Co-host JoAnn Anglin will offer a brief presentation on the work of poet-activist Denise Levertov. Attendees are also invited to bring a poem to read—your own, or one that you particularly like. Free and open to the public; open mic, light refreshments. A fine way to start the new year. We meet in the library/foyer of the UUSS, 2425 Sierra Blvd., Sacramento, between Howe & Fulton Avenues, 2 blocks north of Fair Oaks Blvd. Contact: Tom Goff or Nora Staklis at 916-481-3312, or JoAnn Anglin at 451-1372. This is a first Sunday of the month event, which emphasizes the spiritual benefits of reading and listening to poetry. A featured guest speaker is always invited, and a short presentation given upon the work of a distinguished poet, past or present, along with open mic. Future readers: February 4 – Jan Haag; March 4 – Kathy Kieth.
•••Monday, 1/8: Attend the Sacramento Poetry Center Board of Directors meeting at 5:45 PM, then stay for Best of 2006: An Open Mic Opportunity at 7 PM at HQ, 1719 25th St., Sac. Bring your best two pieces from last year and read them out loud (note the special starting time). Hosted by Indigo Moor.
_______________________
BLENDED FAMILY
—Mediha Saliba, Burnt Ranch
Because small voices
wet as winter branches
cut. Because sometimes, I dance
up the walnut tree
to touch the moon,
I ache more
from the green-walnut bitter
shouted into my wounds
by those who did not suckle
from my dreams. I cannot change
their abandonment
by a mother
lost in misty worlds
of euphoria,
nor can I change
the child
who reaches for stars,
helps me embrace the moon,
and rubs balm into my cuts.
_______________________
JUST IS
—Mediha Saliba, Burnt Ranch
While floating on my back
in the Trinity River,
the water a tolerable cold,
I watch alder leaves
drop — one here, one there.
Not because it is Fall,
but just because it is
their time.
Like soldiers in Iraq.
Like children in Beirut.
Like mothers in Jerusalem.
No amount of weeping
changes things. Heads
are too stubbornly locked
in old perceptions.
If only life was as clear
as an unspoiled river
and that alder leaves
knew why they dropped.
I plant my feet on smooth, round stone,
stop myself from following alder leaves.
I swim against the current,
going nowhere,
but enjoy, enjoy the cool water,
the blue sky, the birds singing
in the trees, until
I know one day I will float
downstream, still
without an answer.
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
—Mediha Saliba, Burnt Ranch, CA
Her body followed the moon
for a lifetime. Waxing
and waning and
bloating with fullness.
And the breathing in
and the breathing out alone,
passed her through time, until
she stood in the deep darkness
of the new moon.
A silent calling pulled
her to a place where
listening is loud, sanity
is on edges, and change
comes in tides of emotions.
But the She that rises
on a silver sliver
blinks in the night sky
with sharpened vision.
And the breathing in and listening
and the breathing out and laughing
dances her to the full moon
and the energy of elders.
________________________
Thanks, Mediha! A new voice heard from in Nor-Cal! And a new locale.
Medusa Returns!
After a holiday/moving house hiatus, we're back. The rest of Snake 12 will go out this week, and we're gearing up for the release of Pearl Stein Selinsky's new chapbook, Vic & Me, which will be premiered at a reading on Weds., Jan. 10 at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento. Medusa is always hungry; send your poems in for posting to kathykieth@hotmail.com, or to our new p.o. box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. We're still not very organized in our new digs, but the poetry community is waking up, and so it's time for us to, also.
This week, the poetry beast begins to stir again:
•••Don Anderson of Stockton writes: We are looking for material to fill the pages of our latest publishing project, Sun Shadow Mountain, a 6”x 9” perfect-bound paperback of approx. 169 pages which will be made available for sale online at www.lulu.com. We are now accepting as many submissions as possible; all submissions are reviewed and selected upon relevance to the theme. The closing date for submissions is Thursday, January 4th, 2007; those received earliest are most likely to get a higher priority for available space, except where aesthetics dictate. Submissions requirements are very specific, so for further info, contact Donald Anderson at P.O. Box 121, Farmington, CA 95230 (too_live_forever@yahoo.com), (209) 943-2449; or Nikki Quismondo (pisces03142001@yahoo.com), (209) 474-7099.
•••Sal Amico M. Buttaci of Lodi, New Jersey, writes: Winter is here and I am looking for some good poems to post at The Poem Factory http://www.freewebs.com/sambpoet/ Why not send me up to five of your poems? Keep them under 24 lines long. And include a very brief bio of yourself. Send it all to me at sambpoet@yahoo.com.
•••Thurs., 1/4, 8 PM: Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sac. presents Sacramento Poet Laureate Julia Connor. Open mic before/after. Info: 916-441-3931 or www.lunascafe.com. Free.
•••Sat., 1/6, 11 AM: All are invited to the monthly Escritores del Nuevo Sol / Writers of the New Sun writing workshop/potluck at La Raza Galeria Posada, 1024 22nd Street, Sacramento. Info: call Graciela at 916-456-5323.
•••Sat., 1/6, 7 PM: First Saturday Poetry Series at Sojourner Truth Art Center, 2251 Florin Rd., Sac. Hosted by Noah Hayes and Felicia McGee. All ages. $5. Come early for workshop. Info: www.malikspeaks.com
•••Sunday, 1/7, 6 PM: All are welcome when the PoemSpirits of the Unitarian Universalist Society of Sacramento assemble on Sunday, January 7th at 6:00 PM. The invited feature reader is Geoffrey Stockdale, a full-time professor of Speech at American River College, and a much-published Sacramento poet. Co-host JoAnn Anglin will offer a brief presentation on the work of poet-activist Denise Levertov. Attendees are also invited to bring a poem to read—your own, or one that you particularly like. Free and open to the public; open mic, light refreshments. A fine way to start the new year. We meet in the library/foyer of the UUSS, 2425 Sierra Blvd., Sacramento, between Howe & Fulton Avenues, 2 blocks north of Fair Oaks Blvd. Contact: Tom Goff or Nora Staklis at 916-481-3312, or JoAnn Anglin at 451-1372. This is a first Sunday of the month event, which emphasizes the spiritual benefits of reading and listening to poetry. A featured guest speaker is always invited, and a short presentation given upon the work of a distinguished poet, past or present, along with open mic. Future readers: February 4 – Jan Haag; March 4 – Kathy Kieth.
•••Monday, 1/8: Attend the Sacramento Poetry Center Board of Directors meeting at 5:45 PM, then stay for Best of 2006: An Open Mic Opportunity at 7 PM at HQ, 1719 25th St., Sac. Bring your best two pieces from last year and read them out loud (note the special starting time). Hosted by Indigo Moor.
_______________________
BLENDED FAMILY
—Mediha Saliba, Burnt Ranch
Because small voices
wet as winter branches
cut. Because sometimes, I dance
up the walnut tree
to touch the moon,
I ache more
from the green-walnut bitter
shouted into my wounds
by those who did not suckle
from my dreams. I cannot change
their abandonment
by a mother
lost in misty worlds
of euphoria,
nor can I change
the child
who reaches for stars,
helps me embrace the moon,
and rubs balm into my cuts.
_______________________
JUST IS
—Mediha Saliba, Burnt Ranch
While floating on my back
in the Trinity River,
the water a tolerable cold,
I watch alder leaves
drop — one here, one there.
Not because it is Fall,
but just because it is
their time.
Like soldiers in Iraq.
Like children in Beirut.
Like mothers in Jerusalem.
No amount of weeping
changes things. Heads
are too stubbornly locked
in old perceptions.
If only life was as clear
as an unspoiled river
and that alder leaves
knew why they dropped.
I plant my feet on smooth, round stone,
stop myself from following alder leaves.
I swim against the current,
going nowhere,
but enjoy, enjoy the cool water,
the blue sky, the birds singing
in the trees, until
I know one day I will float
downstream, still
without an answer.
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
