As we transition to daylight savings and autumn, I’m mindful of Sojourner Kincaid Rolle, Santa Barbara’s sixth Poet Laureate and an important member of the community for more than 40 years. She is constantly on my mind as she finds herself in hospice care. The times I’ve gone to visit her, she is surrounded by friends and family. This is a particularly difficult time for her and all who love her. There is even a GoFundMe to help the family with end-of-life expenses. As she faces the end of life, I marvel at the rich color of her smooth skin, her delicate hands, and her bravery and elegance. Friends told me that on one occasion, she thanked everyone for visiting her, forever a lady of grace. These visits, knowing that any moment could be the last, are the hardest.
Attending poetry readings is good medicine. Last week’s Mission Poetry Series featured local poet Julian Talamantez Brolaski (now of New York Times fame), crowd favorite and recent Poet Laureate of Los Angeles Lynne Thompson, and newcomer Gustavo Hernandez.
Gustavo is from Orange County, but has local ties via a sister who lives in Ventura. Their mother was in the audience and this was the first time she had ever heard Gustavo read. I looked over and saw the tears in their mother’s eyes as they read poems honoring their late father. As someone who started writing poetry after my mother passed away, I was also brought to tears by seeing the love and pride in Gustavo’s mom. It was a beautiful moment. Gustavo says they’ve been writing for years and talks to their mother about the poems all the time. Many of their poems are about grief, about losing their beloved grandmother and father. “Grief is a vast and strange thing,” they said. “This was a healing moment. I’m so grateful to all of you for being so welcoming, responsive, and kind.”
Lynne Thompson’s words are as sensuous on the page as on the ears. From her opening line, you know she will deliver a poem that lingers in the mind. For a while, she and I had a tradition of taking a photo with Sojourner. I’ve collected photos of the three of us for more than a decade. Sometimes they pop up on my news feeds. It was bittersweet that Sojourner was not able to join us. I had the pleasure of introducing Lynne and it was such a joy to experience her words in person.
Julian’s work strikes the perfect combination of sobering whimsy that reminds us not to take anything for granted; he’s a poet and musician to watch for. This was a wonderful conclusion to the Mission Poetry Series’ 15th season and a round of applause for the poets and series curator, Emma Trelles, Santa Barbara’s ninth Poet Laureate. Each poet from Saturday’s reading is featured in this week’s poetry connection. These are the poems that were also featured in the broadsides produced by the Mission Poetry Series.
REFUGIO
by Gustavo Hernandez
In the early morning there’s a sweetness
in the white smoke rising from our houses.
It is December and the night mist has left
behind its small complications. They are
water on dry corn stalks. It is everywhere:
rooster feather, tractor wheel, the largest
nativity scene en el rancho, where even
the devil is gold-flaked. This is and isn’t
memory, because I am trying to tell you
of a time when only my grandmother
was left to walk across our patio.
Years after she stomped across it
to undo the rusty deadbolt to the room
my sister had locked me in. Years after
she guided my hands across it to wash up
in my mom’s lavadero. After we were all
gone. Living in El Norte. No, y yo pa que
voy? Y quien va a echarle agua a la salia?
O al arrayán? O a las rosas y a los aretes?
I am filling in words now, too. See, I am
trying to make sense of it for you, for us,
because on this side, things grow
on their own whether someone goes or stays.
I’m trying to make this okay for you. Show
you I can still feel her missing me, in this
body: no shirt in a stainless-steel kitchen,
hairy chest and the crow’s feet, my glasses.
I am trying to show you there’s never a day
when the hills don’t unfold in light and dew
and smoke.
3/4 Jazz
to honor Yusef Komunyakaa
by Lynne Thompson
I am subsumed by how it horns
into obsidian and how it’s held up,
ever-captive, on the streets where
Coltrane still lives — I love the teak
and teak and teak of it, the hand
drum that recognizes me dark I
adore my ebony as it strides the F
key in Lateef’s flute — My ten toes,
coal-colored, can outwit every lyre
as well as the didgeridus of aborigines,
coupling jet and the raven Agogô
Bell — I am sable & magical powers &
can exhaust at least one hundred cymbals
polaroid poetics
by Julian Talamantez Brolaski
a rough garden
which appears as if
unmanicured
locusts used as lightning rods
chestnuts deep in the forest un
archived
your painting was ordinary and
your role quite ancillary
but you’re cute enough
keep the crotch shots out
collective consciousness is talking now
corn, tobacco, banana, kudzu
I could harpoon them all day if I wanted to
I was orienting pretty regularly
the calligraphic touch is everywhere
print and cursive mixing at the speed
of thought
the moon looking kinda smug
and east coast hazy with a bite
taken out of its shoulder
small victories,
like staying sober that day
or helping a worm cross the road
divas don’t deal in dregs
but you scribbled a little warble
that plucked every string of my heart
Upcoming Poetry Events:
November 8, Blue Whale Poetry Series, featuring the Indy’s own George Yatchisin and Robert Krut, at Unity of Santa Barbara, 5:30 – 7 p.m.
November 9, Poetry reading at the CEC Hub Monarch Exhibit, 6 -7 p.m., 1219 State Street.
November 12, Out of the Ground: Poems Inspired by Santa Barbara Botanic Garden, 2:30 p.m.
November 16, Fire Songs: An Evening of Poetry, Stories, and Music with Melinda Palacio, 6 p.m. at UCSB’s MCC Theater. See event flyer.