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Silver Linings
Kara SynhorstINSIDEIn the whole forest, you were justa fat rabbit caught in a fallen, hollow log. You were just a bee in the flower of a trumpet vine.You were just things inside of other things. I rose...
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A Mountain of Love
Duncans Mills Ceramics—Photo by Cynthia Linville, SacramentoI AM NOURISHED BY STONE. —James Lee Jobe, DavisThe beggar breaks the rocks, and I eat them. My soul is nourished only by stone and great...
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The Roots of Language
At the BeachThe roots of language are of steel. —J.L. Borges The objects hardest to break remain. —I. CalvinoAll of the words which...
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Inheriting Heaven's Graces
—Photo by Richard Hansen, SacramentoSONNET XIII—William ShakespeareThey that have power to hurt and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show,Who, moving others, are themselves as...
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Dreams Inventing Pastures
—Photo by Caschwa, SacramentoWHEN IT RAINS—Ann Privateer, DavisHeaven poursdown, leavingnothing dry.The slough slogstons of waterthrough secret paths.The sky swirlsrousting everyone’ssleep, no...
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This Achy, Breaky Life!
FOR AN ARTIST WHO NEVER PAINTED MEI was flattered to learnyou were an artistwho said, rather drunkenly,that you would like to paint me . . .But this was just an abstractconversationnot meant to be more...
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Bees and BeeZees
—Photo by Michelle KunertHEAT—B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MAHeat from plane treeseven the moist rainon a slow run,in the reed of my sax,from scattering seedfor the Fall harvest,three children ask for ice...
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Waiting
—Photo by Katy Brown, DavisI AM WAITING—Lawrence FerlinghettiI am waiting for my case to come up and I am waitingfor a rebirth of wonderand I am waiting for someoneto really discover Americaand...
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Heat Only a Crawdad Could Love
Okra flower—Photo by Katy Brown, DavisSHADES OF GREEN —Patricia Wellingham-Jones, TehamaWater low in the creek, algae streamers wave green in the current.A green heron croucheson a sycamore...
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These Errant Winds
ShieldAFTER THE HEATDynamite in the blood.The veins are fuses, hotWith mockingbirds in the Long air of delta summer night.I listen to the sputter in My chest, smell the gunpowderOf tomatoes and snap...
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Only the Dead...
4th—Photo by D.R. Wagner, Elk GroveON A LINE BY DEREK WALCOTT—Timothy Sandefur, RescueOnly the dead can endure it in Paradise. —Derek WalcottOur longing fire reaches up,Drawn toward...
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Hell in a Boot
—Photo by Robert Lee HaycockTHAT SURE WAS A GOOD PESTO—Robert Lee Haycock, AntiochIn the catwalks above the stageBallerinas circle admiring theirBreasts one at a time but howTo get to the orchestra pit...
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Crayon Shades of Heat
A HUMID NIGHT—I go with this,just what I need:a thoughtto proceed on.(A red horse named Fear that flies you to safety.)A humid night—dark with heat, the room shrinking inward, breezes searching the...
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More Than We Need
Gualala Beach—Photo by Cynthia LinvilleAT THE PAWN SHOP—Cynthia Linville, SacramentoI finger a tattered costume and am back in 1972wearing my short red dress the one with superhero letters on the chest...
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A Heart Like Rain
Featured Reader Dafina Everhart, reading at Sac. Poetry Centerlast Monday night (7/8)—Photo by Michelle Kunert, SacramentoHUMMINGBIRD—Carol Louise Moon, SacramentoIts throat was red,but not in a...
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Poems and Pawn-Phernalia
Big Gold Fish—Photo by Katy Brown, DavisSAX AT THE PAWN SHOP—B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MAAs a shy teenI whispered "sax"at the pawnshopalong the Baya pigtailed soulsaid to me,"I'm betweentwo beds myselfI...
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Blue Checks and Bad Bourbon
Morning GloryMAYBEMaybe it was a flag.Maybe it was a Spanish flag.Maybe I was too far away.Maybe I didn’t see it.Maybe it was a heart.It looked like a heart.Maybe I was too far away.Maybe I didn’t see...
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Grass
—Photo by Caschwa, SacramentoGRASS—Byok NamkungGrass, summer grass,Dew drenched grass of Yoyogi fields,Gently, as if kissing a lover's lips,I tread you with my bare feet.Are you not truly the lips of...
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Medusaed To Be True
Ballet Folklorico, "Old Coots" DanceCalifornia State Fair, 2013—Photo by Michelle Kunert, SacramentoTHE BEAUTIFUL WALL, MACHU PICCHU—William BronkGreek stones look as though they'd flowedinto molds of...
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Words Under Stones
PARTICULARITYMemory is thin as a shadow.It wavers like a thought—reached-for as it alters.It transportsagainst white—that wall—and offers suggestion.It is too shape-less for recognition.It does not...
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