Electric Shards is a regular feature of The Central California Poetry Journal. You will find individual poems, or a small group of poems by poets who may or may not be featured on other pages in the Journal. Each group of poems on this page is linked to the list of featured poets at the top of the page.
The old men straddle their stools at the bar,
The trees begin to shiver and wail,
Rummaging through the attics of their lives.
Aging bullfrogs, splayed upon their lily pads,
Chirping and burping in the fading light.
SUMMER'S END
and dark clouds race
with urgent purpose overhead
on autumn winds that summon us,
as though to carry us away
on some dark journey.
Copyright © Milt Carland 1996.
Trees growing out of rock
in one unity purpose
Calling to the stars
"We made it."
Wrapped in the arms of mist
Indian Paintbrush
patiently waiting--
to be back in the hands of the sun
seagulls fishing
at the top of the world
Saddlebag Lake
snow falling
Copyright © Preston Chase 1996
Motel children chase the pick-up;
With conical lips, a mother
To danger. Green leaves shun silence
Flaps about the little girl. Stunned,
The broken youth stands at the edge of the
Fire engines blow terrible horns when he
Happy and angry, he thrives at the edge
Blackbirds dive from walnut branches.
Calls her toddler's terse attention
As the feathered light of evening
Her eyes are torn by enraged throats.
5/30-31/96
Figurine
highway. His hands move in a wave that is
almost eaten by the crush of pistons.
grunts and pulls his fist; drivers grin sadly
at his shrill dance. He can conjure tears while
laughing at their faces. He spits at their
shields, and still they bare their embarrassed teeth.
of chaos. This is his element, here
his whimsical wrists command. Spinning in
delight, he punches air. Cursing his
captive horde, he bellows at their armor
as though his ghostly voice created them.
Copyright © S. Kevin Wojtaszek 1996
As if bound by a string
it circles the field
wings spread wide
eyes don't yield
to watch for the mouse
that wanders astray
before diving down swiftly
claiming it's prey.
Copyright © S. Stacy Hamer 1996
The Red Hawk circles,
long, slow,
sweeping turns,
riding the ocean wind.
Far below,
his shadow
moves over the land.
To the West,
the mighty Pacific,
strikes the land mass
in relentless assault.
Endless lines of
Aquamarine waves,
roll onto the land mass.
Soldiers to the front.
The land rises up,
forming a fortress,
of thousand foot cliffs,
the first line of defense.
The Lords of the forest,
mighty Redwood Trees,
stand, tall and strong,
as if in reserve against,
the onslaught of the sea.
The Red Hawk dives and climbs,
over this mighty battle,
His shadow sweeps across,
black tail deer and grey fox.
Seals and Otters,
jump and play,
in the swirling surf,
unaware of the eternal struggle,
between Land and Sea.
Looking at this Epic scene,
I am able to see myself,
as if in a mirror.
A bit of bone and flesh,
my life and times,
a fleeting moment,
in the natural order of things.
Copyright © James Arnold 1996
Whitefield Cosmetic's Lily Greasecomb set up shop
in Silo California
at the El Sol Motel
to sell the wives some make-up.
While their earthmen worked the fields
they joined in a lot
under a tree.
There was a card table and paper tablecloth
and on that table was make-up.
Lily used her words carefully:
with spacial gestures
she split her speech
using still verbs and hissing syllables.
Soon,
Lily had them wearing lipstick
called "Hot Hearts."
Looking like ghosts they danced to records
with a thick gleam above each eye.
Copyright © Jeffrey Hanson 1996
The spirit of the forest whispers from the trees
Asking all that hears it to take more sight to see
That the beauty all around us is not of infinite source
Yet slowly but very certainly we've embarked upon a course
Of uncaring plunder and caring little how
The forest of the future preceives then compared to now
Copyright © James Francis 1996
Can I explain these foreign things?
Both plain as day and fake as dreams
for my conception always dies,
I do not know where the truth lies.
For I come and go and vanish like mist
while life circles above and beyond the gist
of all that passes by each day
yet the freedom I have duly comes my way.
And yes, it's hard, wandering about
with no protection except my shout
to rise with happiness I am alone
I walk with pride without a home.
But what courage is there in security
when the only true test is reality?
Of being blindfolded, and masked and afraid
when everything you have is there yet not made.
Still the absolute spirit of sight unseen
is when you accomplish what you dream.
There's a gentleness that
borders on submissiveness,
and just when you think it's submissive
It's fiercely independent.
Copyright © Elise Krentzel 1996
All text and images in The Central California Poetry Journal are copyrighted. Copyright by © by Scott Galloway 1996. All rights are reserved. See main Journal page for
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original work, except those rights specifically assigned in writing to Solo Publications including the right to publish the submitted work in The Central California Poetry Journal. The poems on this page are copyrighted by the author.
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