February 5-11, 2024: Poetry from Katherine Gotthardt and John Delaney

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Katherine Gotthardt

Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt, M.Ed., writing concentration, considers herself a writer by nature and by trade, having begun writing as soon as her mother helped teach her to read. A first-generation college graduate, she has been widely published in print and online since 1991. She has authored 12 books: Poems from the Battlefield, Furbily-Furld Takes on the World, Approaching Felonias Park (Aberdeen Bay), Weaker Than Water, Bury Me Under a Lilac, Late April, A Crane Named Steve storybook and coloring book (Digging & Rigging), Get Happy, Dammit (Local Gems Press), Get Happier Dammit, D.C. Ekphrastic: Crisis of Faith, Thirty Years of Cardinals Calling (San Francisco Bay Press) and We All Might be Witches (MacKenzie Publishing). Visit Katherine on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2024, and owned by Katherine Gotthardt and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Untitled

if anything must overtake anything
let it be the lupine
capturing hillsides
in purple

John Delaney

John’s publications include Waypoints (2017), a collection of place poems, Twenty Questions (2019), a chapbook, Delicate Arch (2022), poems and photographs of national parks and monuments, and Galápagos (2023), a collaborative chapbook of his son Andrew’s photographs and his poems. He lives in Port Townsend, WA. Visit John on the web here. Pre-order John’s collection of poems and photographs of Egypt called Nile here.

The following work is Copyright © 2024, and owned by John Delaney and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Rain Stick

For David Erickson

This piece calls for the sound of rain.
The orchestra stops and the conductor
gestures to you, and you—taking
the three-feet long, 3-inch square
rectangular cylinder of Spanish cedar,
with pins of Peruvian walnut,
throat of basswood, filled with 6.75 cups
of lentils—turn the instrument over:

a cascading swishing begins
to circulate down the spiral staircase
of little dowels, bunching in the throat,
falling with a silken pattering
of drops that freshens the air with moisture
and dissipates before they hit the floor.

 

Less Than 1%

Over 99 percent of all species that have ever existed are extinct. —Smithsonian Magazine

Similarly, out of the teeming mass
of thoughts, herds of ruminations,
subjected to the climate changes
of memory loss and faulty logic
and suffocating clouds of confusion,
escaping the predation of plagiarists
and copycats, organisms evolved:

new species of a viable idea
that survived the mass extinctions
of ignorance and stupidity
because they took refuge inside brains
that kept sparking from its insight
like a stimulant. Given raw birth
from cosmic chaos, yet they changed the Earth.

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