Claire Baker and Katy Brown
Monday July, 16 at 7:30 PM
SPC at 1719 25th Street
Host: Bob Stanley
Claire J. Baker has been active in the Bay Area poetry scene for years as contest judge, contest chair, editor, reader, organizer, friend to poets. Her publications number over 2400, with awards and honorable mentions in local and national contests over 400. Her work has appeared in Blue Unicorn, Street Spirit, Poetalk, EDGZ, Song of the San Joaquin and others. She twice won the Grand Prize and poem dance performance at Dancing Poetry Festival/Artists Embassy Intl. Last year she chaired the national contest offered by Bay Area Poets Coalition, and she has served 23 years on the Poets Dinner (luncheon) Arrangements Committee. She believes poetry saved her life from a rough start on her own in her late teens. She has self-published eight books, the last co-authored with Mary Rudge.
RESURRECTION
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole
When we stand on a hilltop
and face a sunrise, we harbor
no concern over what or who else
we may become, or when, or if.
Every sunrise is a Great Now
metaphoring
that we, too, have risen
many times before—that
rising again and again is
what life is all about.
Katy Brown, a resident of Davis, California, has won awards in The Ina Coolbrith Circle, The Berkeley Poets Dinner, and California Federation of Chaparral Poets competitions. She has had poems in Glass Art Magazine, Wee Wisdom, Daily Word, Harpstrings, and Song of the San Joaquin among others. Her workbook, Poetry Potions, was used in schools for nearly twenty years and is being released in a digital format. Her other writing credits include automobile humor, greeting cards, a multiple-ending book, and a series of short mysteries for young readers. She is a regular contributor to Rattlesnake Press publications
WAITING TO BE FOUND
—Katy Brown
I’ve marked a winding path through weeping pines,
giant redwoods, and owl clover― my latest
coiling track through twisting choices.
Especially as I scramble down the steep hillside―
slipping on rolling pebbles, slick as ball-bearings―
I know the way home demands a hard uphill climb.
I’ve come through nutmeg trees and sugar pines,
through cedars that thrive on this hillside
and skeletons of trees, bare as spinal cords.
I’ve circled back to nearly where I started
and wait on a little stone bridge.
Today, I’m trying to get lost;
pretending to be turned around,
I lay a trail for rescue dogs.
Today, I will be found.
