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November 12th, 2009
Dorine Jennette (aka Dorine Preston) will give a reading at the Avid Reader bookstore in downtown Davis, California, this Saturday the 14th at 7:30 PM with other contributors to Davis's own Blue Moon Literary and Art Review. Food and wine served!
Dorine Jennette
Ode to Doubt
—after Neruda
Doubt,
you are
muscular as a boa,
and smooth
as cognac
aged fifty years
in the throat.
You muffle
hard outlines
under your skirts,
offer a grey handkerchief
to each certainty.
Behind the civility of veils—
what manners!
you understand how vulgar
clarity can be.
At your discretion,
the lampshade’s tassels.
Yours, the axe swung wide.
You own the dog
afloat
on the ocean,
the blurred print
on the dog’s sodden collar.
Hands that hold
a cold canary,
burning lungs
that must inhale.
Last child
left in the parking lot.
Dead horse,
middle fork,
gloved hands in hair.
--from the website memorious.org where she is listed as Dorine Preston
I saw/heard Dorine read at the Sacramento Poetry Center recently, and she is an exceptionally talented poet. I'll be at the reading, and I hope you will, too.
All Good Things, Jobe
Li-Young Lee
Become Becoming
Wait for evening.
Then you’ll be alone.
Wait for the playground to empty.
Then call out those companions from childhood:
The one who closed his eyes
and pretended to be invisible.
The one to whom you told every secret.
The one who made a world of any hiding place.
And don’t forget the one who listened in silence
while you wondered out lout:
Is the universe an empty mirror? A flowering tree?
Is the universe the sleep of a woman?
Wait for the sky’s last blue
(the color of your homesickness).
Then you’ll know the answer.
Wait for the air’s first gold (that color of Amen).
Then you’ll spy the wind’ barefoot steps.
Then you’ll recall that story beginning
with a child who strays in the woods.
The search for him goes on in the growing
shadow of the clock.
And the face behind the clock’s face
is not his father’s face.
And the hands behind the clock’s hands
are not his mother’s hands.
All of Time began when you first answered
to the names your mother and father gave you.
Soon, those names will travel with the leaves.
Then, you can trade places with the wind.
Then you’ll remember your life
as a book of candles,
each page read by the light of its own burning.
--from BEHIND MY EYES, W.W. Norton, an excellent book
--
Presents
Dogs of a Feather:
RD “Raindog” Armstrong and Bill Gainer
Monday, Nov. 16, 2009 at 7:30 PM
HQ for the Arts at 1719 25th Street
Host: Rebecca Morrison
RD Armstrong, AKA Raindog, has been published in over 300 journals, magazines, Ezines, blogs and anthologies. He also has fourteen books including Fire and Rain Vols. 1 & 2 Selected Poems – 1993-2007 (Lummox Press - 2008); On/Off the Beaten Path (Lummox Press - 2008) and El Pagano (Short Stories, Lummox Press - 2008). He operates the Lummox Press which has published the Lummox Journal; the Little Red Book series (59 titles); New and Selected Poems by John Yamrus; The Riddle of the Wooden Gun by Todd Moore; The Long Way Home Ten Years of the Little Red Book Series; Down This Crooked Road; and Sea Trails Poems and 1977 Passage Notes by Pris Campbell. All can be viewed at http://www.lummoxpress.com. An itinerant, self-taught writer, RD lives alone in Long Beach, CA USA. He makes a living doing whatever he can.
What Keeps Me Going
The fear of madness
Is nothing
It's an academic tease
A ploy
A ruse
A technique
A bluster
That inspires boys and girls to envy
Solitude is a pleasant maze
Another distraction
Solitude is a new coat of paint
On a very old story
It is a world that exists
Outside the box
Outside my skull
Beyond the blade
Laid flat on a pale forearm
Where the party
Never stops
Even as the condemned
Drop
Even as the worms take over
The world decays
And is remade
Constantly falling down
And building back up
Quantum physics meets
Destruction derby
Listen between syllables
You can hear it
The interplay between
Death and life
Life and death
It is a chattering
Animated sound
Lost in the murmur of voices
In the chaos and clamor of desire
It is the simple act of drinking
A cup of tea or breaking bread
Or seeing a cloud unhinged in the
Evening sky as if
For the first time.
Bill Gainer is known for the openness of his confessional poetry and is recognized as one of the founding contributors to the modern movement of "After Hours Poetry." He has contributed to the literary scene as a writer, editor, promoter, publicist, publisher and poet. Gainer considers himself forever influenced by an odd mix of outsiders. He says that early on he was swept away by the boldness, courage and brevity of the works of Richard Brautigan and Michael McClure. Later he found himself enthralled with the story telling talents of the likes of Tom Waits, William Kennedy, Johnny Cash, John Prine and a legion of "Meat Poets," including Bukowski. Gainer has a long standing love of the short poem, but is often more recognized for his longer pieces. He continues to read and work with a wide range of poets and writers. He has read on KUSF radio with Punk-Rocker Patti Smith and performed with California's Poet Laureate, Al Young. Gainer is nationally published and remains a sought after reader. He can be previewed at http://www.billgainer.com. His poetry on magnets project was recently recognized by the Sacramento News and Review as a Best of Sacramento, http://www.newsreview.com/sacramento/content?oid=1225398. He just released a Rattlesnake Littlechap chapbook, Joining the Demented.
After the Fire
we’ll sweep the ash,
wash the dogs,
water down the porch,
think about church –
won’t go,
the kids and the neighbors –
won’t call.
We’ll probably throw
a bale of hay out for the deer,
some birdseed
for the wild ones,
wonder when they’re going
to get the power back up
and wait for the smoke to settle.
We’ll think about how quiet it gets
without leaves...
it’s always quiet
without leaves...
--
Raindog & Gainer? I am SO there! Both of these guys old friends of mine, and I've read with both of them before. Expect a fun reading!
All Good Things - Jobe
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