I received a request to forward a poem from a very hip local poet who will be reading at the Utah Arts Festival. I assume, (and we all know what a slippery slope assuming anything can be), that he will be reading one of my poems as part of a community poetry reading. He will be reading his poems, perhaps one of mine, I just don't know for certain, Sat 06/26 05:30pm - 06:00pm at the Big Mouth Café Stage in Salt Lake City. Check it out. Actually, if you're anywhere near Utah, this is the place! (and I even provided an inside joke for all you locals...this is the place... get it!) psst, if you don't, in addition to being a heritage/theme park, it's what Brigham Young, (second Mormon prophet who spearheaded the Mormom Pioneer move West), is reported to have said when he looked out over the Salt Lake valley the very first time.
Click on the This is The Place Heritage Park site's virtual tour and you can see my ancestor, Levi Robert's cabin, which incidentally, was so well built it didn't have to be dismantled for the move from the banks of Kayscreek to its new home at the This is The Place Heritage Park.
Levi Roberts was a basket weaver in case you're wondering. Weaver's Lane is named after him. You can still find some pretty fabulous reeds growing on the creekbank. Also, in case you like really useful trivia about obscure pioneer types, Levi was Joseph Smith's bodyguard, (Joseph Smith was the first Mormon prophet). FYI: Levi wasn't on the job when Joseph Smith was shot dead.
Supposedly, Levi buried a cache of gold on the property, but many a treasure seeker wielding a metal detecter has been utterly disappointed. The property is currently under development, so unless a construction worker unearths a bag of gold, it's a story left to local myth tellers.
Here's trivia a little more gruesome about the property, in the category of airing dirty family laundry. I happed upon this story by accident when my Grandmother let the family secret slip. Once I had its scent, I tracked down as much of it as possible from primary sources before they died, then went to the now defunct publication The Clipper, and gathered ordinary heresay,for the rest.
Here's the dish: My Uncle Snowden, (yes, that is his real name), found his Uncle Henry dead, face down near the cabin, stabbed to death. I can only imagine the long term emotional rammifications on Uncle Snowden.
From what I understand, Henry's murder didn't cause a public call to arms to avenge him, probably because he was known to be of a raw meat temperament, and mainly because, it was common knowledge that his long suffering wife had finally gotten fed up with being a punching bag, and she had a great many sympathizers. Long story short: the murder was pinned on a transient, who just happened to escape the law by jumping a nearby train to freedom. Win-win for everybody.
I'll find out and let you know if one of my poems will be read at the Festival. Until then, here are the three poems I submitted, and two I wish I had. Let me know what you think.
1.
Karma Will Cut You to Ribbons
Danna
go back to that sightless fish swimming
inside the cave of the body
toward the dark-haired girl
her virgin skin shimmering
in the kitchen's ambient moonlight
metal ringing in her ears
knives falling from the rocking table
like reverberating echoes pinging
through the cave's recessess
to the waxed linoleum floor
go back to the girl looking to the doorway
her shadow self standing at the threshold
a slow hiss lifting in her coiling tresses
2.
Shekel of Tyre
Danna
looking at a dead man's mouth,
what is the use of god
or money unspent?
give me hunger,
greed to be alive
give me silver,
the betrayer's coin,
holy and invoilable,
coin enough for a slave
or a life
3.
Driving to Mercury
Danna
We shred ribbons of highway
stretching across the planet's surface
under the watchful eyes of the stars
the car's headlights illuminating our path
I am strapped into the driver seat
hands holding the steering wheel loosely
heading toward that dark horizon
pulled by its gleaming iron core
My dog is curled in the passenger seat
whimpering in his dreams
He is unaware the smallest planet
of the solar system
is expecting our arrival
We must hurry into the distance
to win the race with the swift-
footed messenger's flight across the heavens
before he disappears
once again in the morning light
4.
Wish You Were Here
Danna
Dear Siobhan.,
I wish you were here beside me,
alternating between holding
your breath and screaming curses
into the swirling chaos. The sky
is a threatening lapis blue,
and the trees are bent in a sideways
prayer beneath the wind's finger.
You always loved to be scared,
always loved knowing that the whirlwind
was out on the horizon waiting for you,
sharpening its scythe on its leather strop.
5.
What Goes Around
Danna
the burdens of the dead
float inside him
like a boat made of sharp bones
his own death is coming
a shadow out on the dark water
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