Kathleen Goldbach

On the Garrigue in Southern France

Thyme grows wild and shrubby on the garrigue,
that rocky scrub of light and ruined bricks.
Our boots strike its stiffened, sun-dried sticks.
Its pungent smell, the shells (one time a league
or more beneath a sea), the shards are a dig
with tiers of buried years. My foot kicks
fossils of curled snails. A cricket clicks
in bits of villas fallen in fatigue.
Drilling a well, our friend dug up archaic
terra cotta handles and Roman tiles
like those in Musee Antique. We dine on snails
in wine, admire a recomposed mosaic:
a man's one laughing eye winks out through time,
disregarding the pieces lost in roots of thyme.


Light comes less
and less.

All is ice
and loss.

reaches the slot

at Stonehenge site,
then stops, sits,

before it slices
back, a tic

that told the Celts.
Low, it sets

like a colt
over a stile.

Frost silts
windowpanes, ices

roads and roofs. Snow clots
ways. Darkness closets

all, closes
every eye. Sole

night reigns, slits
each flame with sleet, lists

the griefs of winter's costs
that first new sunrise stole.


Amber beetles neglected to adapt in time
to keep their feet out of sap and got trapped in time.

A baby is born with cheese on her head, blood on
her bottom, wrinkled and folded and wrapped in time.

Sing it gold, strum it blue, dance it hot, drum it cool,
hum it madly out of tune, but clap it in time.

If Niagara Falls began making a sea
of the Mississippi, could it be capped in time?

Hiking the pungent hills of the dry chaparral,
we stopped to drink wine in rosemary, napped in thyme.

Poetry and music—are they really the same?
Each have the eagerness to be rapped in time.

She bent over her drawing, whisper-breathed, moved her
magic marker deftly—hand, heartbeat, rapt, in time.

First the squeal, then the skid, then the slow-motion roll-
over. He saw his whole life reel by—strapped in time.

Kathleen or Kathy, which one to be, formal or
free? When will she ever choose which is apt? In time.


Kathleen Goldbach earned a B.S. in Nursing from the University of Iowa in 1964 and a B.A. in Music from San Jose State University in 1987. In the late 1990's she lived in Germany for five years. Now she lives in Campbell, California, where she teaches and plays the piano as well as writes poems. Her poems have been published in The Vocabula Review, Eureka Literary Magazine, Poetalk, and an anthology, Learning to Heal: Reflections on Nursing School in Poetry and Prose.


Barbara Crooker
Alexandra Donovan
Jehanne Dubrow
Kathleen Goldbach
Colleen S. Harris
Brittany Hill
Katherine Hoerth
Lynne Knight
Jean L. Kreiling
Angie Macri
Carolyn Martin
Kathleen McClung (Featured Poet)
Mary Mercier
Ann Michael
Leslie Schultz
Myrna Stone
Jean Syed
Ann Christine Tabaka
Sally Thomas
Doris Watts
Joyce Wilson
Marly Youmans


The most recent addition to The Mezzo Cammin Women Poets Timeline is Phillis Wheatley by Kathryn Voorhees.

Kathleen McClung is the recipient of the 2019 Mezzo Cammin Scholarship to the Poetry by the Sea conference.

Morgan O'Hara:LIVE TRANSMISSIONS render visible normally invisible or fleeting movement patterns through seismograph-like drawing done in real time. The pursuit of vitality carefully observed through human activity is drawn simultaneously with both hands and transmitted to paper. Following closely the intensity of each segment of an activity, the direction of the line as well as the quality of its intensity is transmitted. If a person makes a gentle movement, a delicate line is drawn. If the action followed is forceful or violent, a correspondingly vigorous line is made. This is done simultaneously and as much as possible without “thinking." The dialectic between observer and participant, control versus relaxed participation coalesce to form the conceptual base for LIVE TRANSMISSIONS. Scale and physical limitations are determined by real-life expediency. In 2018 there exist approximately 4000 LIVE TRANSMISSION drawings done both privately and publicly on five continents. LIVE TRANSMISSIONS communicate beyond the specificity of language.

HANDWRITING THE CONSTITUTION is a social art practice which O’Hara began in January 2017. It is a process by which people come together for a specific time period to handwrite the Constitution. This practice encourages a quiet, introspective process, a form of activism for introverts. As people copy out texts which guarantee freedom and human rights, a strong sense of community is silently created. www.handwritingtheconstitution.com

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