PoetryRepairShop 03.06:066

03.06:066

I first heard "The Hammer" 15 years ago in a little Mill Valley book store - my first reading since I had left Connecticut. I was astonished at the room's size and capacity. It looked like people were queuing up for a London bus but as most poets do, I adjusted to the size and acoustics, and hoped that it would accommodate at least 15 people. My short reading was followed by an open reading and the first person to step up to the podium was someone who appeared to be a teenager, wearing shorts, sneakers and socks who later turned out to be a 30-something married woman. From that moment on, nothing Nancy would do or say could possibly surprise me. Two stanzas into "The Hammer", I knew this was a talent. When the open readings ended, she seemed to be a little uncomfortable and looked as if she was going to make a quick getaway, but before she did, I managed to get her phone number and asked for the poem. I told her that I'm always looking for good poetry for my magazine POETS ON: and proceeded to give her a very hard sell."How about getting together with me and a couple of others every once in a while to talk about our poetry?" and hers was a typical Nancy response: "That's cool." That's the way it began and continued. One of the poets I had published quite often was eager to have a workshop and after hearing Nancy, I knew we found a new member. We met every few weeks and it was a joy to see what growth took place in all our work, especially Nancy's.

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After divorce and emergence as a woman who could take care of her own, I watched and silently cheered as Nancy took on responsibilities that she had never attempted before. She began the Radolarian Press from 1994 to 1996 and published fine press books, art books, and chapbooks (The Wind Room Series and Redfruit).

Her publications include Barnabe Mountain Review, Bellingham Review, Berkeley Poetry Review, Beside the Sleeping Maiden Anthology. She was also finalist in Salt Hill Journal Poetry Contest.

After 2 or 3 years of poetry sessions, Nancy moved to other activities and challenges in the Marin Poetry Center and the Marin Poetry Summer Travelling Show with 15 venues throughout the county; she also became an active member of the Marin Arts Council and the Sonoma Poetry Festival (Publicity Coordinator); and, she attended workshops and conferences including the Squaw Valley Community of Writers. Once started, there was no stopping her.

Nancy received awards and commendations from the Chester H. Jones Foundation National Poetry contests,and was awarded a Residency at Villa Montalvo, plus an Honorable Mention in 1995 Biennial Poetry Competition and First Prize in the 1994 Bay Area Poets Coalition Contest plus a $2,000 grant from the Ludwig Vogelstein Foundation of New York, December 1993 which came in very handy between secretarial jobs.

NANCY CHERRY

The Hammer


There is a hammer lying on the floor of my bedroom
I want to pick it up but I don't pick it up because
that would be a digression.

If I pick up the hammer,
it will leave an impression, hammer-shaped, in the rug because
it is heavy and has lain there all night.
it will look as if the hammer is still there
even after I have walked out of the room and put it
away in the toolbox.

The carpet will not let go of its hammer-shape; it is not grass
that will gradually lift itself after a night of heavy sleep.
It will only stand up if I run my fingers through the fibers
or vacuum; and if I vacuum, I will not stop
with the foot-square shape of hammer, but will run through the house
vacuuming carpets and no one will remember
there was a hammer.

Last night I brought the hammer into the bedroom
to unstick the window swollen with winter
because I was beginning to suffocate as the barometer dropped
toward rain.

Even now, though I am in the kitchen and it is raining at last,
I am thinking about the hammer and what it is doing alone
in the bedroom pressing carpet fibers to the floor.
It presses silently and does not move in any direction
except down. It does not inch toward home but plows
through my thoughts with the claw end made for prying
and getting things unstuck.

And what will I discover inside but another toolbox
full of anxious hardware: the screwdrivers, the pliers and directress
and an empty space at the back
for the hammer.

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03.06:066

RUTH DAIGON -

How a Family Handles a Tragedy

This poem is a vital part of our family history.

My grandmother had fifteen children but the favorite was David - the smartest - the handsomest. One spring day David and his friend went down to the Red River. The friend jumped in for a quick swim. David jumped in immediately to save him. Both boys drowned. Both boys were barely nineteen and that tragedy affected the family down through the generations. In the first section, we attempted to bring him back to life by running the film of his drowning, backwards. Nothing helped but the memory of him and the stories handed down to the family and young people kept him alive for everyone

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Ruth Daigon, founder and editor of POETS ON:, has been widely published online and in print. Poet-Of-The-Month on the University of Chile's Pares Cum Paribus (an E chapbook in English and Spanish), her chapbooks appear in WEBDELSOL, THE ALSOP REVIEW, FORPOETRY, POETRYMAGAZINE, THREE CANDLE REVIEW, KOTAS'S POETRY ANTHOLOGY. Some of her earlier poetry collections are Between One Future And the Next (Papier-Mâché Press, 1995), About A Year (Small Poetry Press, Select Poetry Series, 1996).

Daigon' is an award winning poet - "The Ann Stanford Poetry Prize,” 1997 (University of Southern California Anthology, 1997) and the Greensboro Poetry Award (Greensboro Arts Council, 2000) - with a list of extraordinary collections such as The Moon Inside (Gravity/Newton's Baby, 1999), Ruth Daigon's Greatest Hits 1970-2000 (Pudding House Publications Poetry Chapbook Series), Payday at the Triangle (Small Poetry Press, Select Poets Series -a work based on the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire in New York City, 1911- was published in 2001). Her latest poetry book is Handfuls of Time (Small Poetry Press, Select Poets Series, 2002). Her poetry was published by the State department in their literary exchange with Thailand and their translation program has just issued the first book of Modern American poets in English and Thai in which she appears.

RUTH DAIGON

The Drowning


    1

We keep pulling him up
from the bottom of the Red River
in stop-action or slow-motion
and replay the splash
blooming around his hips.

We correct his dive,
restore the promise
of his form, each movement
clear in the instant of falling.

The moment reversed,
we reel him up
to where he's still
sitting on the bank.

Mother covers her
bare scalp with hair
torn by its roots.

Screams sucked back
into her mouth become
soft syllables again.

Her shredded clothes 
re-woven.  The table set
for his return.

        2

Again he's swimming
and the Red River 
opens wide to take him in.                    


Mother's rooted to the bank
her voice floating over water
we're waiting supper for you.

Bread and milk lie
heavy on the table where sisters 
stand strange to one another.

They turn their backs 
and climb the stairs 
to narrow rooms.

It's that time of year
nudging memories of
his face streaked with summer

murmurs at evening meals
walks along the river 
with its glowing spine.

In this house where
no one survives love
darkness opens like a white door.
            
            3

Summer nights we'd sit on the back veranda
planing down the hours with small talk.
Stories flowed in a spill of old pleasures
sweet and tart and light on the tongue.
The air was fresh, the weather excellent,
the room radiant with the dead.

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