The Jopomojo Poetry Podcast
Three minutes or so of Potter poesy per day, selected from
House of Words, Tulips for Elsie, and Sunrise Hexagrams
Now streaming wherever fine podcasts are found
Scarecrow Oracle at Auntie’s
Korrektiv Press poet Mark Anderson at Auntie’s Books in Spokane, Washington, along with fellow authors Karen Mobley and Shawn Vestal.
Mark and other Spokane-area writers were on hand at Auntie’s to promote Small Business Saturday.
sunrise yang
Volume 2 of Sunrise Hexagrams is now available where fine books are sold.
sunrise yin
Volume 1 of Sunrise Hexagrams is now available where fine books are sold.
sunrise yin & yang
Coming soon from Korrektiv Press, a two-volume set of poems and pictures chronicling a year of rising with the sun — by Jonathan Potter
Cover Art by Tiffany Patterson
Design by Thom Caraway
For the book by Mark L. Anderson
Soon to be published by Korrektiv Press
Scarecrow Oracle, Coming Soon
Mark Anderson’s Scarecrow Oracle (coming soon from Korrektiv Press) opens by “Going Backwards to Where It Starts” and then takes us forward through the speaker’s childhood into his early adulthood, traveling through time as he stays rooted in place–the Spokane Valley, The Empyrean Coffee Shop, the Rockford Fair. The question the speaker is always asking is how to live in a world steeped in loss. Early in the collection, the young speaker asks a dandelion this question, and in response, “it lets go of everything it has ever been.” Towards the end, the older speaker, less stunned now by the dandelion’s quick vanishing, tells us as he performs the ordinary act of making his bed, “I want to be ready to be a ghost or a nothing…./ And when the time comes I part the curtains / and let in the astonishing day.” Anderson’s book translates the silences and fears of childhood and early loss into a series of images that answer, beautifully and without explanation, his difficult question. — Laura Read
When you live inside Mark Anderson’s poems, someone a bit like an oracle speaks to you in almost but not-at-all ordinary speech, you give up sleep for most of your life, death crowds close but the poet bravely writes it away, you feel the terror of a crawl space and the patience of a jellyfish with the “body of a half-sealed / Ziplock bag / flushed down the / grime filled gutter, / inexplicably filled / with life / instead of a sandwich,” and you learn “We came to the Earth to have / feelings.” And you have feelings. It’s an extraordinary place to be. — Kathleen Flenniken
Mark L. Anderson lives and writes in Spokane, Washington. He co-founded the popular Broken Mic spoken word poetry series and has traveled the United States performing at open mics, poetry slams, taverns, coffee shops, and libraries. From 2017 to 2019 he served as Spokane’s poet laureate. Scarecrow Oracle is his first book.
sunrise a momentary dream field
december
1.
humanity’s trees
will see what happens
in the middle of nowherethanks for the update and for
the only thing that
the only thing is[all but the first line written with keyboard suggestions]
2.
southeastward yellow
sunrise unfurls its
brief banner of buoyant bluesky a longing lavender
ladder to climb out
of darkening thoughts3.
clouds above below
the morning fog that
rubs its back along the hillssunrise a momentary
dream field of faintly
glowing marigolds4.
again great river
bring down new colors
ravaged tinged periwinkleblanched silverfringed brakelight orange
long-distance lovelight
mirrored memories5.
morning’s rhythmic
glacial paradox
speed of light and enormousinfinitesimal near-
ness near pausing
distantly changing6.
drab slab of monday
sky like a weak nudge
when a hammer’s what’s neededto crush the brain’s hard dark beans
and steep them in light
to negate the night7.
the bridge to winter
carries my gray dreams
over the great gray riverreflecting the absence of
the consolation
of sunrise or sleep8.
immaculate sun
rising in the wind
bursting from under blanketsof clouds a woman waking
on her fortieth
birthday breathing light9.
the disappointment
of seeking sunrise
in the sadness of a towna pretty how town but sad
in its brushfire heart
and cloud drift dream light*
cauldron of morning
burning through bare limbs
over unaware rooftopsdistant furnace fire glowing
deep in the heart of
impending winter10.
the gods’ persimmons
glowing in the east
queen of heaven pray for usand clouds like fermenting plums
storing drunken sleep
for the winter blues11.
a river’s disguise
of cloud-cloaked sunrise
at the railroad bridge at dawna light afoot that muggles
don’t notice climbs a
dark enormity12.
humble lovely bridge
unassuming violet
clouds with creamy brightcurlicues of light
dispelling autumnal night
and darkness’s arc13.
cable bridge sunrise
black dog rabbitbrush
river flowing in the nowcarrying gifts to the sun
frankincense skyline
clouds of mystic myrrh14.
the sun is rising
behind a curtain
of dark and light shades of bluebehind the blue bridge that spans
the big blue river
glistening with birds15.
beguiled by colour
three time zones away
when i woke far too earlyand my co-conspirator
televideoed
what i then screenshot16.
thin band of faintly
gleaming alice blue
sandwiched by bland grey aboveand the numb brown of autumn’s
somber surrender
to winter below17.
words are too worn out
or not worn enough
insufficient to the taskthey can only fall prostrate
to the snowy ground
and stammer eastward18.
approaching solstice
no sun evident
just snow and fog and the soundof the day reluctantly
getting underway
and blessëd coffee19.
this is what passes
for sunrise winter
standing at the door smilinggrimly icy sickle teeth
somber cloudy shrouds
and christmas cookies20.
flying towards sunrise
breathing burning coals
glowing from last night’s campfireclouds are smoldering ashes
powdery and dark
the airplane my tent21.
reconciled to snow
back yard relaxes
into the mind of winterpandemic blessings
glad isolation
gold nugget sunrise22.
jesus in the snow
nature’s new year’s day
you want to travel with himand you want to travel blind
across the water
to that paradise23.
clouds stained with the night
drift casually
over sweet potato skiesthe river used to freezing
this time of year gives
itself to sunrise24.
tanager-like sun
beginning its slow
migration from solstice daytowards the spring equinox
furtively orange
bringing glad tidings25.
sun costuming clouds
on christmas morning
out the window all we seeis snow falling on the warm
antiquity of
self and flakes of love26.
behold the sunrise
masked to protect us
from deadly december raysthe virus of happiness
that would infect us
if we dare let it27.
no one waiting here
hear the beating heart
now here now nowhere no onethe heart of winter waiting
no one hearing now
here one sunrise pulse28.
winter means something
snow some nothing thing
hiding something underneathsunrise hidden like a bulb
a magic nothing
a secret something29.
there is no sunrise
no rise no risen
sun hidden within itselfkeeping its own secret safe
for the hills and trees
frozen in their dreams30.
the bleak midwinter
the bleak midwinter
the bleak midwinter the bleakmidwinter is in my soul
sunrise on my mind
the bleak midwinter31.
we wake up and drive
to the horizon
to inspect the frozen fogconcealing the last sunrise
of this year of grace
the day of your birth
november blue november
a jonathan potter project
1.
mellow apricot
sky spreads out above
the hills of stevens county
a watercolor world wakes
all hallows’ morning
layer by layer
2.
my mother saw the sun
rise on her birthday morning
rise behind the gray november
veil that spanned the eastern sky
my mother stood on
the mountain and saw
3.
from gray to gray-blue
cornflower-cyan
sapphire cobalt slate stone spruce
november blue november
blues blending into
the blues the blue blues
4.
exact sunrise time
postulated in
drizzling misty mystery
fog’s gloom-gray estimation
of time’s abacus
raindrops on branches
5.
from eastern time zone
comes love’s explosion
of blood orange rose gold light
awakening the darkness
of pacific sleep
with love’s time travel
6.
between a weeping
willow and tall pine
orange sky-soup like titan’s
organonitrogen haze
sci-fi saturday
waking from strange dreams
7.
yellow on turquoise
dark horizon line
roiling clouds gentle hills trees
then becoming enormous
otherworldly peach
and plum pudding sky
8.
amid the azure
and alice blue clouds
filling the sky this morning
a golden ghost of fried egg
emerges sunny
side up and lovely
9.
redeye flight waking
orange horizon
could be another planet
the alien cityscape
river of methane
or is this philly
10.
saint lawrence river
catches the image
of this candle flame sunrise
morning drifting to the south
the sky clinging to
decreasing daylight
11.
marmalade guitar
amber-blue cloud strings
stretching to infinity
opening into music
honey-gold and bright
upon the river
12.
start at the bottom
the river’s secrets
dark blue darker skyline tells
saint joachim’s bronze bells to ring
to bid the silent
blue-gold day start here
13.
screen of trees and poles
silhouetted there
on lakeshore road a jogger
back turned on radiant beauty
pink-orange burning
dangling carrot sky
14.
pale bright scarlet veins
of pomegranate
stains on a dark blue napkin
in a billowing moment
a gold incursion
a strict horizon
15.
desultory gray
rising of the day
cormorant besprent swims by
under the gray layered sky
dives and disappears
the rain’s whispered cheers
16.
give us this day our
daily slur of sun
rising like a lonely loaf
we graze on with eyes and skin
touching each other
in the lonely light
17.
red-orange luminance
white cloudwisps wafting
above and below dark hills
calm atomic yellowing
deep breath expanding
effortless slate-blue
can sunrise be willed
no thy will does not
govern the planet’s turning
could it be the force of love
taking a deep breath
without intention
18.
saint john’s cathedral
the sun’s sentinel
pokes its pointy spying spires
up at the naked blue clouds
the gold fringed hem of
god’s skirt proclaims love
19.
no sign of sunrise
the rain it raineth
every day to quote the bard
aloof the sky refuses
these bare ruined choirs
my mind’s leafless limbs
20.
i didn’t see the sun today
but i saw a star
tonight cold and bright
i woke up but stayed
in bed at sunrise
to venture out at moonrise
21.
the sunrise has slouched
further south rough beast
but the fog comforts the hills
prodigal the ochre sun
behind the mountains
marigold the clouds
22.
standing in the street
looking southeastward
sunrise time but clouds are thick
but falcon and falconer
tell me it’s right there
slouching toward solstice
23.
river railroad bridge
rolling sunrise clouds
this train ain’t bound for glory
but still the smothered sunrise
hints at beautiful
blue dreams and journeys
24.
train crossing river
sun rising without
intending to turns the sky
and its reflection
into something never
seen until this moment
25.
thanksgiving morning
on the great river
railroad bridge like a zipper
binding the searing beauty
of the rose-gold sky
to watery earth
26.
hephaestus rises
forging molten gold
on the eastern horizon
above my alma mater
my great grandfather
smiling down on me
27.
mirror of river
grasps at burnished bronze
angelic yellow garment
pink threads of fire cobalt blue
wielding a flaming
sword to kindle day
28.
guests of the sunrise
trespassing to see
the unnameable colours
gaudily manifesting
neon banana
alien lava
29.
eighteen sunrises
viewed from steptoe butte
each year in my mind
since the day that you were born
and the world became
stunningly lovely
30.
end of november
cold aquamarine
watery cobalt serene
early morning clouds swimming
above seabottom
hills sunken city
A Month of Sunrises
a jonathan potter project
1.
radio towers rising
in distant foreground
orange sky bruised clouds
aftermath of last night’s storm
pine limbs dangle down
into soft darkness
2.
this phenomenon
of the sun rising
tears open the eastern sky
even if obscured
by the horizon of sleep
or the day’s darkness
3.
sunrise on game day
the sun a fiery ball
blazing from the east
god throwing a curve
across reality’s plate
and the day’s at bat
4.
canal bordering
my mother’s backyard
snakes towards the rising sun
thumb-smear of orange horizon
inkblot trees ghost clouds
gravel road ready
5.
sky salmon spawning
vermilion moments
ponderous deep lavenders
reality bearing down
imagination
lifting up the sky
6.
morning pink and pale
pauses to wake up
contemplating the meaning
of the dream before waking
driving the wrong way
down a one-way street
7.
garbage day dawning
the sun hidden like the week’s
discarded debris
behind the residential
slumbering malaise
faintly peach to blue
8.
orange reptilian eye
burning through the pines
this early autumn
sunrise from the highest point
i could find at hand
crawling out of sleep
9.
memory of trees
darkening up the mountains
hills like ocean waves
the city below
people opening their eyes
an orange turning
10.
overcast autumn
cloudshapes form an eye
or mouth’s ambiguous lips
masking the sunrise drama
as reality
comes up behind me
11.
airport sunrise through
the glossy glass of
half past seven’s fluorescent
rectangles’ tangle with the
underlying sky
i’m about to fly
12.
jet lag bronze meringue
morning’s calm glowing
debussy blue-film distance
layer on layer lighting
the thought of dreaming
of coffee and cream
13.
beaconsfield backyard
tree creatures greeting
the golden island rising
from earth’s insistent turning
from last night’s gloaming
this rose-mauve morning
14.
the veil of the sky
horizons river
mutes the unbrazen sunrise
unheralded by trumpets
ducks swim languidly
near the lapping shore
15.
astronomy tells
me the sun rose this morning
while i was sleeping
i take the sunrise on faith
the grey morning dull
the sky unscripted
16.
hunting the sunrise
over saint joachim
the sky as god’s cast-off thought
on the day of rest
the sky as a placebo
for work’s medicine
17.
the clouds are keepers
of the buoyant secrets
of the morning’s silent bells
mount royal lookout rises
above the city
breathes crimson questions
18.
what is the color
of morning itself
green dark-green light-green yellow
luminescent bright-fringed shades
of lavandula
pink-white hints of red
19.
rising with the horizon
flying away from
the morning being
borne on nothing but
air which is a kind
of nothing that is something
20.
planets turn suns rise
clouds hills trees mountains
converse in color-tinged tongues
somber ocean-gorgeous
tangerine language
tastes reality
21.
cathedral tower
where humans climb stone
gold-railed steps to the golden
sky enjambed with particles
and waves of searing
syllables of light
22.
god spoke from the clouds
the universe spoke
you yourself spoke marigold
luminous amber mumbles
breathing enormous
breaths of thought and love
23.
jackolantern cloud
october’s charm turns
dismal dismally charming
candle sun struggling wick
blue on blue on blue
trees suggest christmas
24.
before the sunrise
i open one eye
glance at the sliver of faint light
at the edge of the
closed window curtain
resume sleep dream the same scene
25.
cobalt autumnblue
umbilical cloud
cerulean slow fury
lamppost lastleaf powerline
smokestack freewayscape
darkhope beginning
26.
morning tells orange
secrets to blue sky
with goldfringed inuendo
foretells the day’s falling leaves
prospect of early
sunset and slumber
27.
wallowa mountains
look up look up a message
drifts in drifting wisps
of morning’s inscape
of migrant cloudshapes’ shifting
dim dazzling light
28.
like dante i put
one foot over the
other for some hard climbing
up out of confusion to
the moraine ridgetop
to see the sun rise
29.
morning gathers grey
debts and spreadsheets them
above money-colored trees
grey makes rain earn a living
sky a blank check no
daylight in savings
30.
what does the sunrise
mean just the turning
of blind mechanical forces
resulting in a beautiful
orange accident
blessing our nothing
31.
silhouette of trees
against a pale cantaloupe
sky slowly turning
bright with distant light
as the sun rises below
beyond direct sight
Burn and Break: An Insomniac’s Anti-Aubade
The three pre-dinner martinis
Compete with the two strong coffees
That brought a cheesecake to its knees;
Eating away at emotion,
My Dead Sea, a bitter ocean,
Nauseates at the mere notion
Or romantic coincidence
(Discount the eclipsed resplendence
Of shared bed space as indolence
And our dawn walks in Radio Park,
Dead signals in a channeled dark —
Like a coronary infarct.)
Now the heart’s a hopped up toad;
The blood flows, arteries corrode,
And the night’s black caffeine cathode
Twitches the clock and tricks the brain
To confess the blunted edge of pain
That bleeds through dark a darker stain.
This vigil’s tortured entropy
Breaks the stars’ monopoly
And burns a private astrology
Of headlights that loom, flash, and crawl
Slow tracers down the bedroom wall
To speed the car of Ezekiel.
In fading hiss of passing wheels,
The Doppler hum of engines feels
Like time reversed in movie reels.
These hours are hounds that found and treed
That possum called sleep — and the need
To meet her fangs becomes a creed
In a molten heat each bitch moans —
And this magma liturgy groans
Tenets my inner ear intones.
Too easily, antacid quit
And its pink liquid conduit
Chalks my tongue on a turning spit:
So are Cupid’s barbs chemical?
Is Venus a blocked ventricle?
(Maybe Mars is too clinical.)
But the bedroom’s uneasy poise
Snags my conscience — just so much noise
Light may know but the dark enjoys.
My fingers range across the quilt
That you had stitched against my guilt —
The flowered pattern in constant wilt.
Then monotony blinks an eye:
The lampstand yanks alive to try
Fabricating my alibi.
With ceiling’s conclusions foregone,
I lie and write this poem on
My heart as upon volcanic stone
Tied with pups in a sack and cast
In a sullen lake, deep and vast
Enough to digest the shotgun blast
Square in the chest which, burning, breaks
With too much love, too many cakes,
And whatever in hell it takes
To leave me waked by dawn. Forget
Reasoned search for scorched regret —
I’ve made my bed. I’ll sleep in debt.
Tulips Sans Chimneys
Mr. Potter’s given us a bold adventurous book with plenty of sharp turns at high speed, with some gestures toward Neruda and Merwin but also “Sk8,” a gr8 skateboarding poem, and sonnets, and brave ventures into rhymed verse, poems for friends and relatives, “Stopping by Blogs on a Frosty Evening,” and poems of passionate love with angels looking down from above. Plus tulips and Elsie. —Garrison Keillor
I have enjoyed the company of Jonathan Potter’s poetry for years and rejoice at the arrival of this new collection with its unabashed delight, authentic intimacy, and emotionally convincing, often playful music. Potter is at turns a graceful, organic monologist and a wry, deft formalist. These are poems of generous mythmaking, self-deprecating humor, passion, and the glories of fatherhood. They inhabit a Seattle of historical icons and the poet’s own skateboarding youth, a London of “tidy grime” and love, and the derelict and divine streets and poetry community and waterfall of Spokane, this poet’s answer to Williams’ Paterson. By the time Potter wishes he could “become myself with vengeance / and take you with me,” he has done both. —Jonathan Johnson
In an era of poetry that plumbs humanity’s darker depths, it is a pleasant respite to read Jonathan Potter’s Tulips for Elsie, a collection that wears its pathos and its prosody lightly as it confronts life’s familiar concerns—love, sex, family life, and his beloved native place (Spokane, Washington)— with full-bodied affection and gentle irony. Many poems here are sonnets—not just Petrarchan or Shakespearean but also Onegin stanzas!—yet Potter makes rhyming in these conversationally-toned fourteeners look effortless. Particularly engaging are the portrait sonnets featuring poets and writers associated with Spokane (Alexie, Howell, Walter among them), the longer poems about the poet’s lively and accomplished daughters, and the poetic palimpsests replying to or parodying well-known classics. By the time we finish reading, we may feel ourselves, with the poet, to have “co-authored . . . a beautiful book of longing.” —Carolyne Wright
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