Boris Schleinkofer, poetrywatch editor
“When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.” — John F. Kennedy
Artwork by Hilary Cole
Poetry has a voice in our community, and the Whatcom Watch is adding to its chorus. You all love poetry, right? Well, here you go!
Subject matter is unlimited, but poetry featuring or specific to Whatcom County and issues addressed by Whatcom Watch (government, the environment and media) will likely get first preference.
Please keep it to around 25 lines; otherwise, we might have to edit your work to fit. Don’t make yourself unprintable.
Send poems and your short, two- or three-sentence bios as a word document attachment to firstname.lastname@example.org.
The deadline is the first day of the month.
Please understand that acceptance and final appearance of pieces are subject to space constraints and editorial requirements. By submitting, authors give Whatcom Watch express permission for first-time publication rights in paper and electronic editions of current or future volumes of Whatcom Watch.
by Andrew Shattuck McBride
A tiny, bright green grasshopper
and a wasp struggle on a sidewalk.
Astonished, I pause, kneel down
to examine what might be contested.
The wasp wins, hovers, flies away.
Dazed, the grasshopper rights itself;
one impossibly-long antenna quivers.
I realize the wasp is parasitic.
The day is sunny, bright and dry
but the world looks different now.
Understanding, a new burden.
Something ancient stirs, renewed.
Andrew Shattuck McBride, a writer and freelance editor, compiles Port of Bellingham Commission votes for Whatcom Watch.
by David P. Drummond
Out from under the
forest green, cubed copy
of petroleum culture’s
nylon tarp and boxed
pattern bivy bag protection
I see the weather elements
greet my senses here
Wafts of vapor scud
across mountain slopes
Checkered white snow
patches, in animal shapes
Snippets of bird calls ac-
scent morning heather
bells, once again cloud
curtain closes, I await
patiently, the next act
Wither with Mt. Hemlock,
Siskin, pipit or perhaps,
Phantom fur and
feathers found, from
alpine animals away
or not around
A splash of fire
in native paintbrush
beside sloped bed
for reindeer lichen
David P. Drummond enjoys scribing for the universe in perceptions inspired within nature, human interaction and cultural interface. He is grateful for world travel opportunities that allow contextual comparison between life forms and our shared challenge of survival.