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Great reading last night – Robert Bense and Ann Conradsen has a rapt audience at SPC.

Lots more coming up this week:

Thursday noon (3/15) at Central Library – bring (someone else’s) poem to share. Mary Zeppa and Lawrence Dinkins host. Free at 828 I Street, Sacramento.

Thursday 3/15, 7:30pm at SPC – Literary Lectures #5 – John Allen Cann and I will discuss the tools of the trade of modern poetry: The Blab of the Pave. $20 donation benefits SPC.

Saturday, March 17 at 7pm at SFAC – the Sacramento Fine Arts Center in Carmichael – Jazz and Poetry 3 with the Brubeck Institute Jazz Quintet. Eve West Bessier, Tim Kahl, Anna Sprowl, Allegra Silberstein, Rebecca Moos, Stephen Frantz, Richard Turner and Bob Stanley. If you want to go, call 947-2600 soon because tickets ($10) are going fast. 5330 Gibbons Drive (East of Walnut) in Carmichael.

Enjoy some poetry this week!

The third annual Sacramento Writer’s Brush features local writers/artists Maceo MontoyaJulia ConnorD. R. WagnerTrina DrotarFrank GrahamJennifer O’Neill PickeringSandy Thomas, and Tim Mchargue, in an art exhibit and reading of their writing. Singer songwriter Mike Pickering with guitarist Chris Mackey and singer Argelia Hill will also perform. Join them at the Sacramento Writer’s Brush, Saturday January 14th, 5-9pm at the Sacramento Poetry Center Gallery, 1719 25th Street (25th&R). The art reception is January 14th 5-7pm and the reading follows from 7-9pm. Event is free, but donations are gratefully accepted and benefit the Sacramento Poetry center.

Please join us for the annual SPC Fundraiser at the home of Mimi and Burnett Miller, 1224 40th Street, on December 1st from 6 to 8pm.

Guest Poet will be Joyce Odam, plus a brief folk music sing-along to follow!

Tickets available at the door: $30 for non-members/$25 for members

The Sacramento Poetry Center presents The 2011 Quinton Duval Chapbook Contest In memory of Quinton Duval (1948-2010)

Open to writers from West of the Mississippi

Deadline August 15, 2011

20-24 pages of poetry on any theme

$10 entry fee – checks payable to SPC

Winner receives publication and 50 copies of chapbook.

Do not put your name on the manuscript pages, but attach a separate page with contact information and the title of the collection. If submitting via email, put “Chapbook Submission” in subject line, attach manuscript as a doc, docx or pdf file, and put contact information in body of email. Simultaneous submissions are acceptable, but please notify SPC if your chapbook is accepted elsewhere. All rights revert to authors.

Send email manuscripts to:  DuvalChap@gmail.com

Send paper manuscripts (and checks for all entries) to:

Sacramento Poetry Center

1719 25th Street, Sacramento, CA 95816

Attn: Quinton Duval Chapbook Contest

 

There won’t be enough lazy time

spent dreaming in the shadows of beeches.

To figure things out, all anyone needs is time.

from “My Future,” a poem in Quinton Duval’s collection Joe’s Rain (Cedar House Books, 2005)

The Sacramento Poetry Center

presents


The 2011 Quinton Duval Chapbook Contest

In memory of Quinton Duval (1948-2010)

Open to writers from West of the Mississippi

Deadline August 15, 2011

20-24 pages of poetry on any theme

$10 entry fee – checks payable to SPC

Winner receives publication and 50 copies of chapbook.

Do not put your name on the manuscript pages, but attach a separate

page with contact information and the title of the collection.

If submitting via email, put “Chapbook Submission” in subject line, attach

manuscript as a doc, docx or pdf file, and put contact information in body of email.

Simultaneous submissions are acceptable, but please notify SPC if your chapbook is accepted elsewhere.  All rights revert to authors.

Send email manuscripts to: DuvalChap@gmail.com

Send paper manuscripts (and checks for all entries) to:

Sacramento Poetry Center

1719 25th Street, Sacramento, CA 95816

Attn: Quinton Duval Chapbook Contest

 

There won’t be enough

lazy time spent dreaming in the shadows

of beeches. To figure things out,

all anyone needs is time.

 

from “My Future,” a poem in Quinton Duval’s collection Joe’s Rain (Cedar House Books, 2005)

Follow the link tothe latest issue!

http://issuu.com/poems-for-all/docs/spc_-_poetry_now_-_2011_-_03_-_may_june?viewMode=magazine

Celebrate a new edition of Moon Mist Valley with a reading at SPC on Monday May 9th at 7:30 pm

Hosted by Emmanuel Sigauke

Josh Fernandez reads at the Sacramento Room

6pm Wednesday, May 4

Second floor, Central Library – 828 I Street

Hosted by Bob Stanley

Josh Fernandez has lived in Sacramento on-and-off for almost 20 years. He currently writes for Spin.com and has written arts and culture stories for the Sacramento News & Review, San Antonio Current, Hartford Advocate and other publications. Fernandez’s first poetry broadside, In the End, it’s a Worthless Machine, was published by Rattlesnake Press in early 2009 and his first full-length collection of poems,

Spare Parts and Dismemberment, is now available from R.L. Crow. His poems have also been published in Pax Americana, Poetry Now, the Rattlesnake Review and Hardpan.

Poetry Reading Monday May 2 book launch for

Fog & Woodsmoke: Behind the Image

edited by Stephani Schaefer

With readings by: Brigit Truex, Cleo Griffith , Eric Nystrom, Gordon Preston, Joyce Odam, Judith Pacht, Kathy Kieth, Katy Brown, Lara Gularte, Robert Davidson, Taylor Graham, Stephani Schaefer, and Susan Kelly-DeWitt.

Sacramento Poetry Center, 1719 25th and R


Presents

Heather Altfeld and Troy Jollimore

Monday, April 25 at 7:30 PM
Crossroads for the Arts
1719 25th Street


Troy Jollimore has authored two poetry collections: Tom Thomson in Purgatory, which won the National Book Critics Circle award in 2006, and At Lake Scugog, which appears in the Princeton Series of Contemporary Poets this year. An Associate Professor of Philosophy at California State University, Chico, he is also the author of Love’s Vision (Princeton University Press, 2011) and of many articles and book reviews. His poems have appeared in The New Yorker, Poetry, Ploughshares, McSweeney’s, The Believer, and other publications.

On The Origins Of Things

Everyone knows that the moon started out
as a renegade fragment of the sun, a solar
flare that fled that hellish furnace
and congealed into a flat frozen pond suspended
between the planets. But did you know
that anger began as music, played
too often and too loudly by drunken performers
at weddings and garden parties? Or that turtles
evolved from knuckles, ice from tears, and darkness
from misunderstanding? As for the dominant
thesis regarding the origin of love, I
abstain from comment, nor will I allow
myself to address the idea that dance
began as a kiss, that happiness was
an accidental import from Spain, that the ancient
game of jump-the-fire gave rise
to politics. But I will confess
that I began as an astronomer—a liking
for bright flashes, vast distances, unreachable things,
a hand stretched always toward the furthest limit—
and that my longing for you has not taken me
very far from that original desire
to inscribe a comet’s orbit around the walls
of our city, to gently stroke the surface of the stars.

—Troy Jollimore


Heather Altfeld is a lecturer in composition at California State University, Chico.  She is currently the board chair of a local Waldorf charter school and has spent several summers at the Squaw Valley Community of Writers.  She has published poetry in The Tule Review, The Squaw Valley Review, Antique Children, Clackamas, and has a poem forthcoming in ZYZZYVA, and is at work on a manuscript of poems.

The Curfew

On the day of the strange tide
there was nothing we could do
but stand on the streetcorners

and watch slack-jawed
as the constellations of houses
blinked and darkened one by one
and the paraffin lamps

gasped the last of their parched wicks
on the slats of the wooden tables.  The lighthouses
all knew what we didn’t yet know to know;

they closed themselves like hands
and dreamed their fine white planks
tucked between aspen and granite
away from the thin cape of water
that lapped madly at our cities.  We remembered

fondly the hurricaned light
of the winters we knew would end in tulips;
snow sleeping on slats of firewood
stacked in carports, hot brandy
pulled from thick-necked fifths, the way
the sky would open and swallow us blue
come morning.  Oh, how we already missed

the hailed summers of our children flying across
creeks wide as meadows on rope swings
hung from sycamores, how we wished to hear
the raucous grepse of relatives
at our dinner tables.  We grew lonely as planets

in the waiting.  So you carried me,
love, into the meadow, cupped the small of my back
held me down until we were long-limbed and weary
pinned and paused between whispers
beneath the tarpaper of stars.

— Heather Altfeld

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