Postcard: May 6, 2019
Author Archives: Leslie Schultz
Wild Card Farewell: “ARS POETICA” for April 30, 2019
Ars Poetica
A poem slips open into your hand
like a cracked egg falling, wobbly but whole,
into your old blue china mixing bowl,
nascent but complete, soon to be transformed—
new matrix binding chance observation,
puzzled memory, and flash points of insight
with enough artistry to draw attention.
Some few go deep, bring a bright steel rivet
to strengthen the battleship of the brain;
platinum threads to reweave a broken heart,
mending its weary net. Where there is pain,
we cry out to our old mother art.
Cake or bread? Confection or contusion?
A poem serves up its startling fusion.
Leslie Schultz
Thank you for joining me for this circadian exploration of words and pictures during April! Wishing you a season filled with exciting discoveries, poetic, pictorial, and otherwise!
LESLIE
Wild Card: “Song” for April 29, 2019
Song
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
Tarnish to tarnish,
Rust to rust.
Raindrop to raindrop,
Sun to sun.
Night is now finished,
Day has begun.
Birdsong or plainsong?
Coffee or tea?
Umbrellas make boats
on the briny sea.
Look! Cows are leaping
Over the moon,
As we coin shining words
For a dark old tune.
Leslie Schultz
Mark Your Calendar! Poetry Reading on Thursday, May 9, 2019
I am very excited to be able to share work from my new collection of poems, Concertina, here in Northfield. I hope you can join me, musician Jake Bastyr of New Prague, and friends, family, and neighbors to celebrate local poetry and music! Admission is free. Questions? Drop me a line at yogapoet@gmail.com. LESLIE
Wild Card: “Vranac” for April 28, 2019
Vranac
for Julia and Bob Denne
I tasted a little once,
a glass you brought—
fragrant, clear but dense—
berry tarred
with burnt oak,
flavors of summer
churned into late
autumn. Ripened
and bottled on a slope
in Montenegro,
that wine held fast
the ombres
of dark red velvet,
slightly sun-faded,
like covers
of old hymnals.
This spring, between
squalls of late snows,
you offer photographs—
shy woodland
blooms, rising
into chill green air:
red trillium—
strong pulse,
black earth and flame,
intoxicating hue
that I never before knew.
Now, I am drinking it in.
Thank you.
Leslie Schultz
Photo: Julia Denne, 2019