Yuyutsu Sharma: December 2018

Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Yuyutsu Sharma with local Eternal Snow Poets Penny Kline, Tim Kahl, Allegra Silberstein, Meera Klein and Nancy Aidé González



	Yuyutsu Sharma with local Eternal Snow Poets Penny Kline, Tim Kahl, Allegra Silberstein, Meera Klein and Nancy Aidé González Monday, December 17, 7:30 pm Sacramento Poetry Center, 1719 25th St Host Penny Kline Holiday Celebration: Open Mic (bring a Christmas/Holiday poem to read) Hot Cider ... Eggnog ... Sweet Treats ... Free Event



	Eternal Snow: A Worldwide Anthology of One Hundred Twenty-Five Poetic Intersections with Himalayan Poet Yuyutsu RD Sharma Edited by David Austell & Kathleen D Gallagher Books available for purchase.

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Penny Kline

and

Yuyutsu Sharma

in

New York

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Tim Kahl

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Allegra Silberstein

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Meera Kline

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Nancy Aidé González



	Coming Events: SPC and Elsewhere Events take place at the Sacramento Poetry Center and are Free (unless otherwise noted) ☆ Poetry Center Gallery December ☆ Women's Wisdom Art Monday, December 17, Host Penny Kline Yuyutsu Sharma with local Eternal Snow Poets Penny Kline, Tim Kahl, Allegra Silberstein, Meera Klein and Nancy Aidé González & Christmas Celebration, 7:30 pm Wednesday, December 19 Facilitated by Christin O'Cuddehy MarieWriters Generative Writing Workshop Come and write freely in a small, guided group. 6 pm Thursday, December 20 Hosts Mary Zeppa and Lawrence Dinkins Sacramento Room, Central Library, 828 I Street 12 Noon Bring a poem by a poet other than yourself. Monday, December 24 & 31 Poetry Center will be closed to observe the holidays.

Sacramento Poetry Center

1719 25th Street, Sacramento, CA 95816 | Phone: 916 240 1897

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From Yuyutsu Sharma's "The Lake Fewa & A Horse : Poems New"

Glacier

A hope

that someday I shall sprout

like a tree

on the edge of a remote hillside.

A hope

someday a Queen-of-the-Night

shall bloom in my chest

and suck all the smoke

I have inhaled

in these malignant cities.

A hope that someday

a just born brook shall clean

and wash

bacteria of greed in me.

A hope that someday

a Buddha meditating in the niche of a cairn

by the heap of the city

garbage shall shake his limbs

and walk away towards a village of eternity

to take another birth

to save me

from the shame of becoming a glacier.

River: Morning

Cruel river

knows each time

I come to brood

over her roaring waters

each time I come

to her deafening banks

to gleam my dreams

over the plump flanks of her warm body

each time I come

to pour last of my life’s salt

in the ringing gorges

of her sonorous frame,

a bone breaks

in my smoldering chest

and a wrinkle appears

across the shriveled leaf of my life.

River at Night

Dark night

I cannot see the river.

I can only

hear it thundering rumble.

A water well explodes

enamored in the fleshy

clutch of fluffy

clouds, making a cave of this gorge.

Only fingers of the fireflies

illuminate its shape, the wild limbs,

as the river fumbles

curled around the hefty thighs of the night

to find a wink of sleep.