20 poets read from SGVPQ 62

MARIA A. ARANA

Milk

books

spill milk

cascade

on pillow

chill warms

dreams

sooth

skin

and I

discover

sobriety

under bed

looking

for laughter

in a forest

of knowledge

CALOKIE

Funk This Speech!

A noun is the part of speech

which names a thing like

a ding-a-ling.

An adjective is the part of speech

which describes a thing like

“The ding-a-ling is dapper.”

A pronoun is the part of speech

which substitutes for a thing like

“It is dapper.”

A verb is the part of speech

which tells what thing a thing does

like “The dapper ding-a-ling zings.”

An adverb is the part of speech

which describes how, when or where a thing does like

“The dapper ding-a-ling zings here.”

A preposition is a part of speech

which links a thing with another thing like

“The dapper ding-a-ling zings here with zest.”

A conjunction is a part of speech

which joins the differing parts of speech like

“The dapper ding-a-ling zings here with zest but so-so there.”

An interjection is a part of speech

that expresses a word which exclaims like

“The dapper ding-a-ling zings here with zest but alas, so-so there!”

DON KINGFISHER CAMPBELL

Massive

Blue sky canvasses above a mass of mostly white

clouds sun catching as they march over mountains

Free larger supervisory cumulonimbus shepherd

smaller cumulus across the suburban landscape

Tiny buildings surrounded by equally small trees

spot along shrinking concrete roadway ribbons

Populated with miniature cars that roll out of

sight to the illusory horizon straight as flat earth

Miniscule steel fence keeps walking itsy bitsy humans

from jumping up to seemingly soft billows of gods

ADRIAN ERNESTO CEPEDA

When Bumaye was Beautiful

Still floating like a butterfly

from your red glove filled

with fists of love just ask

the Foreman, Liston and Frazier

side stepping in that ring like

a dancer, two step jab romancer

still stinging boxers endlessly.

We can still hear the bell

and all the raps from your tongue

and even under Cosell microphone

loves the rhymes of your charming spell.

And even the Beatles wanted to get in the ring

with you

And not even The Man of Steel could never

destroy you

And on Different Strokes the way you beat

the Gooch

on the phone without even landing a hit.

And because the power of your voice,

when I could only stammer with shame.

And to my skinny frame as I worshiped

your Adonis frame. I may have stuttered

every other world but even I knew your name.

As the camera flashed immortality

your battles were more than just a fist in

the face full of game. From behind witnessing

your sweating arms raised to infinity

with gold belt crowning you def to divinity.

And your still floating like a butterfly

and punching syllables fighting

to knock the words out with a smile

softer than Clay, echoing Cassius

like Jesus on the cross even in defeat

your bouts were my religion even

in my tears you never lost. side stepping

in that ring like a dancer, two step jab

romancer, still stinging boxers endlessly.

And when I say Ali, still weaving

your bobbing head like a champion

as you mumble with greatness—

 “the greatest was me.”

BEVERLY M. COLLINS

Down-South Summer

There was tight-knitted-extended-sisterhood

in the warm circle of my “country-cousins.”

Summer heat had a zip code

on curvy black paved roads

with ditches that eavesdropped

on giggly-girl-talk.

Hopeful over our latest crushes,

we were half-bold, half-shy,

boy-crazy, empty headed and

full of belief that we knew-it-all.

Thrilled to wear clothes too-revealing

for our years that drew attention we

couldn't handle.

Like baby deer caught in the headlights of

awkward-adolescence, the black-hole of

existence was being left out or left behind.

We watered dreams of a “Grand”

future. All that was needed was me-plus-time

then-stir...we made long “to-do” list that

I still attempt to check-off today.

Send in the Clowns!

JERRY DANIELSEN

Medicine Man

Three middle ear bones

And hair

Prove I’m a mammal

Flapping

senseless

naked

vulnerable

Desperately rubbing

My warm-blooded chest

into the earth

Reincarnated from

Some bewitched dancing shaman

Seeking to regain

Simple primal

Visions of

Lost truth

Satisfaction

No amount of technology

Can provide

Or understand

MARK A. FISHER

A fool

I was young

therefore a fool

drowsing in eternal twilight

beneath doubtful mountains

of books all written contrary

by men of bright vapor

shrouded and brooding

breathing deep of their

sublimated hate

and shadows of belief

that flit between

a lost and forgotten

Elysium

and abundant loneliness

written in sand

spilled across the library floor

where I slipped

and fell

to waken to a knowledge

as naturally as if

I had earned

every drop and dram

then I spill

my gossamer thoughts

to drift on winds

up those mountainsides

and disappear

into the starlight

while I grow old

and therefore

a fool

CHARLES HARMON

No Trespassing

Fences don’t own the land.

The land owns you.

Sand piled against the cliffs

Blows across the water like mist.

Involved in sea rock and spray

You leave your questions with circling gulls.

The tide comes in as you walk down.

Where does this stream begin?

Frozen white mountains rise above the plain.

Water flows from the edge of snow.

Crashing waves break on sea cliffs

Where trees come down.

A stream is easily polluted while a sea holds more.

Climb back into the woods.

Ferns and nettles, pine and wild deer.

A red tail hawk flies above.

The hills and mountains that we love

Will change less even than those who change them.

Three rides and a walk is home.

GERDA GOVINE ITUARTE

Home sick 

                                               

            On couch.

            Out.

                                 Too much to drink.

                                 Loaded gun cradled.

                                 How can you love somebody like me?

                                 How can I love somebody like me?

                                

                                 Widow with a living husband.                                 

BRIONY JAMES

Sudden

His tie was loosened and his neck was bared,

White flesh rising from starched waves of linen,

Rising like Orpheus, my ears and eyes are snared

As he turned his head, inviting sin and
Tendons corded and twisting in a dance.

Short of breath, I heard such velvet sound

That wrapped in its tone and rapt, entranced

To watch the pulse that shifts, throbs and pounds

Within that ivory column of reverberating flesh.

My heat within from ember to flame paints

Pictures of reward, release, restraint.

I watch him swallow, smile, refreshed

And think to pull that knot so very tight

And secure myself from lusting at first sight.

PATRICK THOMAS JEFFRIES

Silver Lining

There must be an evil task master

Within me.  One

That longs to crack

The whip &

Insight mistake &

Shame & stigma & fear &

Tells stories of failure &

Would like to chain &

Cuff

My psyche into states of

Despair & otherness &

Unsuccessful longing &

Loneliness.   &

This evil wizard,

This master deceiver, would have

The better part of me enslaved

To his will.  His mystic command

Of my mind and hand.  His control of my throw

& the aim of my bow.  The dark

Wind that re-directs my arrow

& constructs disasters from my

Good intentions & purity of heart.  &

Throws shadow after shadow & drapes me

In excessive ice cold contrition.  & fools

Me to play victim to myself.  Flogging

Myself for bad judgment & dis-ability—

But there is a light in my soul!  A

Unity of integrated self that’s whole.

This light in me will not stay down!

It will light up the night & right &

I write in at least my mind to rite

The course of events to make amends.

And I live, I learn & this passion,

This love that yearns & burns to earn

Sacred Union with the world; that

Rises above the darkness to be

Known as: Eros.  This unifying

Love.  An energy and entity that is

Selfless & non-discriminatory. The unity of

Particle & wave.  The

Individual of Many &

The One as All that

Creates a continuity of blessing &

Unfolding in

A happiness that delights to

Ride the wave of

Shame in order to defeat

The blame game &

Rejoice in

Being the

Same, different—

The self mining to

Construct the finding of the

Silver lining—

LALO KIKIRIKI

how they broke away to go to the califonia country

                       

"so far? so early? so soon..."

                                                Carl Sandberg

each of us stepped off a porch

(in Houston, or Boise, Reno or Brooklyn,

Matamoros, Havana, Belize)

into our particular

escape, adventure, 

doors slamming 

or shutting quietly behind

t-shirt manifestoes, army surplus bags

and boots – Kerouac's rucksack army

unwittingly massed

for peaceful revolution...

we transported,

riding in trains, planes, 

hitching or driving 

beat,

tracking that dotted line on Eisenhower's 

parallel military free ways west

our futures followed the sun

crossed deserts, mountains

to illogical conclusions:

crumbling cells in SRO hotels

shabby roach-infested broken mansions

pretty bungalows courted row-by-row

cabins, shacks, rented rooms all bathed

in unremitting sunshine or sweet fog.

"Now, what?" we would say,

"Are we having fun yet?"

cruising crowded sidewalks, 

banquets of storefronts

no matter where we went: paradise –

here we were –

this promised land and

we could yell,

"Eureka!"

or not...

MINA V. KIRBY

Night Adventure

Visitors after midnight

while I slept

very quiet guests

bringing family with them

In through the front door

not using the knob

never turning the key

to unfasten the lock

Meows from the cats

rousted me from sleep

They refused

to get down off the chair

I looked at the floor

A moving black line

directly from the front door

enveloped the cat food dishes

Unable to find ant chalk

feeling the little black monsters

crawling on my skin

I became a frantic murderer

trampling them with bare feet

stomping and slapping

as they tried to escape

up my legs

From a dim place

in the recesses of my mind

I remembered pepper

grabbed a whole box of it

Sprinkling it liberally

on both sides of the door

discouraged them

from entering

I have ordered ant chalk

it’s wonderful stuff

I know they’ll be back

finding new ways to get in

For hours

I still feel crawling things

tickling my body

even if they’re not there

REYNALD ROMEA LUMINARIAS

The Last Caw

For Mark Tobey               

(After THREE BIRDS, c. 1934-1935)

1

riotous ravens scour rocks volcanic,

gleaming granite, pacing, spindly legs on

cadmium landscape beneath the sky of fire-

storm omens. Lava breaks the belly of

our earth - spilling rare substances, licking

great forests, leveling dwellings, cathedrals,

flamboyant bridges, with swirling storms of steel;

oceans bleed seven-petal-anemones,

iridescent origins of the universe.

One raven, in fact, bears the brightest wing

with streaks of snow. Another pecks at bits of

dry moss, emerging from a cave near a grove

of needle-less cedars. Final roof of ice begins

to fall when our gaping earth, birthing, groans

2

A pair of ravens, brooding, looking

rather pleased, skip around a murky pond –

longing for lotuses, white lilies. They rest

beside a swath of asphalt; for they, too, are asphalt,

remains of burnt cathedral travertine,

lapis lazuli turned into soot, yet, now,

(please look closely) how their darkness glistens

magnanimity: night of microscopic

constellations spewed out into a fast-

receding coal-black abyss recalling

every galaxy’s, every grain of sand’s –

each root’s, each fruit’s, each nest’s…now listen: music

of each survivor’s new, lyre-muted caw

like brave raven’s last fire-mooted caw

RAQUEL REYES-LOPEZ

Shadows vs. the Sun

Bird hates me. I am a poet.
He says, “I don’t speak
an ass lick of truth.”

“Settle down.” I tell him
and pass the flask
of cheap whiskey.

Bird’s laughter roars
as he takes a chug
of my liquor.

I am hopeless to him.
Bird pitched an idea
for my chapbook.

He suggested I wrap
my poetry around
empty toilet paper rolls.

He looks at me and says,
“It’s going to be given shit
anyways. So why not?” 

I laughed. Bird teases
he’s an asshole.

One of the finest
I know. His talk
is encouragement
to prove him wrong.

Now, I reach for the Sun.
Yet I am still a prisoner
to the shadows and Bird
died this morning.

LING SENA

Stay Inspired to be Alive

Have you ever let go your love

Because you thought he’ll be happy

without you?

Have you ever missed someone you care

That you always think of him?

Have you ever regretted the day

You said Goodbye to him.

I tried to forget you but to no avail…

Sleepless night and pain is deepening.

Until that day…it’s your birthday

I saw your face on my phone

Reminding me of all the

Happiness we have shared

When we were together

Just for that you inspired me again

It’s true that Love will make you alive.

Have you ever been hurt

But ignore the pain

Because you thought…

Life is worthless and you don’t care?

Have you ever experienced Blankness

in your surroundings

Because you thought...You’re already dead?

But have you ever wondered why...

That only the thought of that special, special someone

You used to love…Come back .

Like magic…  Again you fall in love..

Stay Inspired to be Alive.

CHRISTINE SURKA

The Prettiest

1. He claims they no longer sell watermelons with black seeds. It makes me sad: faceless figures slaughtering them into halves, cackling and devolving the tiny black hearts with their fingers, and pressing them until flat.  Maybe they wear those masks that look like pantyhose.

Maybe assembly lines of spayed watermelons file and trickle down into the horizon.

2. I show him the black and white patterned box on the back of the cherry bag. It says scan into your smartphone for an abundance of information. It may light up like a slot machine flashing icons: silver, yellow, and neon dollar symbols. These abundances are all too welcome:

3. Dams for one are abundant with fish because the water is always being changed and aired. Whole populations have died from too much oxygenation.

When they die they’re the prettiest because you see them best, silver scales up and caught in the sunlight.