STEVE SANFIELD & BENNY GOODMAN ~

Way back when, Steve sent

me this poem he wrote for

Benny Goodman and

during "Lockdown"

and going through

old and new papers,

I found the poem

and said to myself,

"Save it for June"

STEVE ~

Steve Sanfield & Doc Dachtler

I just learned of an old friend's passing. This is what I get for living so tucked away in the snow. 

News comes from a snail mail letter from another old friend in Colorado telling me about Steve's passing in the Sierra of California. And I'm not sure how long my letter sat in the post office box but I opened it tonight sitting by the wood stove on a small bench in barely any light and when I came to that part of the letter about Steve I moved into the light and read the paragraph again to make sure I was hearing things right.  That's right, hearing things right.

Above is a photograph of two long-time Longhouse poets I always liked to publish and be in touch with. You can see they were pals.

 Steve Sanfield was one of the founders of the American Storytelling Renaissance, becoming the first storyteller-in-residence in the United States in 1977. He is also the founder of the Sierra Storytelling Festival. Steve had over thirty published books under his belt — poetry and prose, but really it was all poetry.

We both lived as long as we lived in our respective spots on earth — 45 years in our spots — which I believe was part of why we contacted one another in the first place. Brotherly Place. Steve's spot on earth was the San Juan Ridge at his home on Montezuma Hill.

_____________________

STEVE SANFIELD ~

Back Road Chalkies
Steve Sanfield

may 2014 
photo © bob arnold

POSTAGE DUE ~

John Brandi / Steve Sanfield



All day I've been writing away on the final leg of the Longhouse Bibliography for the years 2008-2012. I'm at 2011 and thought to charge ahead and get more under the belt and then I opened the mail ~ and here was a new book by John and Steve (sent by Steve, with other loose poems to share) and I couldn't help myself but to read. Everything.


Then go out and snap a photograph


Then type you up some of the poems from the book


So you are here with me


Like these two guys are

_____________________________________

no clouds

but the sky fills

with snowflakes







solitude —

every knot on the floor

begins to move







another pal becomes a recluse

almost no one left

to not visit







unburned brush pile

beginning

to bud







three mistakes / two stumbles

and not even

out the door yet







jury summons

he wears exactly

what they told him not to







changing the stream's song

simply by moving

a stone or two







years of pine needles

on the path

soften his own fall







so happy for their visit

he opens the gate

for the swirling leaves

200 copies, text printed at Country Copy, Grass Valley, California
over image, printing & binding by Jerry Reddan, Tangram Press

EARTH ~

STEVE SANFIELD



Once upon a time in Nevada City, California Susan and I and young Carson arrived early in the day after days on a train. We had a few names and addresses in our heads, and Steve Sanfield was one. Steve's been on the same road address for as long as I can remember. Since we were in the post office to start the day off and sending out some postcards to folks back home, I thought I'd ask if they could tell me where this road was. Nope. Nobody knew. Nobody knew when later in the day we asked about another friend in Grass Valley. I was nicely impressed with how the neighborhood was mum. People were pleasant but they had that look that said — I don't know you and I don't know why you're asking. Fair enough. Steve and I have yet to meet in almost 35 years of sending our poetry back and forth to one another. We have mutual friends and we all like one another's poetry. Nothing at all wrong with that picture.

This morning in the mail Susan brought back from her hike up river a new book by Steve, beautifully designed and hand printed by Jerry Reddan at Tangram. Steve sent this with a note inside, always a friendly note from Steve inside. Often Jerry sends things, and I always send things back to them both. Sometimes I read a postcard poem or broadside Jerry has printed and it's in me enough to part with — someone else might like this, so I set it in the bookshop. Some I'll need to read over and over for years and years. The Perfect Breeze is one. Here's a few warm water drops.

the old man's place

filled with stuff

never to be used again








changing the stream's song

simply by moving

a stone or two







twenty-five years later

still dazzling in or out

of her clothes

for Sarah







long after

breaking the cup

still finding the pieces







the death of an ancient pine

presents us with a view

we never wanted







wrote the poem

that said it all

can't seem to find it








Thanks Steve & Jerry ~ the perfect visit.