Anchor Bay Poet John Allen Cann Featured September 15 at Third Thursday Poetry and Jazz • In Person & Via Zoom

Anchor Bay Poet John Allen Cann Featured September 15 at Third Thursday Poetry and Jazz • In Person & Via Zoom

     On Thursday, September 15, at 7:15pm The Third Thursday Poetry & Jazz Reading Series will feature Anchor Bay poet John Allen Cann.  The reading will take place at the Arena Market Cafe (as well as virtually via Zoom) and will begin with live improv jazz, followed by a featured reading with John Allen Cann, then an open mic with jazz improv, and finally the reading will conclude with more live improv jazz.

By Blake More

     Born in Santa Monica, John Allen Cann eagerly acknowledges his first grand enthusiasm began with the arrival of the Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles.  Along with playing shortstop came a fascination with the stats & brief bios on the back of baseball cards; he considers this the inception of all following passions of study---at times he just wants to turn the world over & see what’s on the other side. The radio by his blue bed entranced him with songs, their lyrics knocked about his head as the figure of the poet gathered a strange, numinous nobility.

     Sports in high school was joined by an involvement with the theater; soon he arrived at Cornell University during its years of student unrest, & where he received his B.A. in Theater Arts.  His time in the east proved California the best place for him.  As wordsmithing overtook acting, he earned an M.A. in Creative Writing at San Francisco State, landing in Santa Barbara afterwards, where Mudborn Press published his first book, Lemurian Rhapsodies.  Here he hosted a poetry show, The Unseen Rose, at KCSB, began Aetheric Press, as well as working with kids & poetry, his livelihood for the next three decades.  His Dinosaurism - An Illuminated Manifesto, & Lunch - An Omnimodal Experience, were both performed before his departure to Sacramento in Orwell’s fateful year, 1984.

     In the state’s capitol, he married artist-teacher, Robyn Cota, a true blessing, followed by another, the birth of their son, Dylan. Family camping on the north coast evolved into the good fortune of securing a parcel in Anchor Bay in 2002; building ensued at a modest pace. John Allen began teaching English at Cosumnes River College; surprisingly, he became an assistant scoutmaster while his son earned his Eagle.  A central figure in the Sacramento Library’s 2013 award-winning Poe Project, John Allen ordered, introduced & added commentary to The Slender Poe, an anthology of the great American writer’s work.  A volume of his own poetry, The Moon Over Madrid, followed from i street press.  On-campus classes were suspended at CRC in March of 2020---you know why---& he finished his last semester on-line living full-time in Enchanted Meadows.

     His study & writing of poetry has been steady for decades, & always he endeavors to be equal to the adage of Wallace Stevens, “Poetry is the scholar’s art.”  His phantom mentors include Heraclitus, Emerson, Whitman, Dickinson, Yeats, Rilke, & Jeffers. Like many who hold dear the mystery of poetry, he already knows there’s not enough time left to read deeply all the great poems that the world treasures.  But he will keep at that joyful task as he composes his own work at the edge of history.

Third Thursday Poetry & Jazz is supported by The Third Thursday Poetry Group, many anonymous donors, and Poets & Writers, Inc.

In Line Outside Trader Joe’s

by John Allen Cann

Up ahead of us, on the blue strip six feet away,

the local measure for social distancing, easy to see

he’s from elsewhere by the dun-white toga,

& ancient leather sandals.  We’re both waiting in line,

the front door at least an hour away,

think to start a conversation, so, I say,

We’ve driven all the way from the coast

to stock up on provisions here in Santa Rosa.

When he replies softly through a checkered mask

in a distant language of mythic import,

I tap the universal translator in my Dodger cap,

& from then on understand him as well as I do anyone.

Hard not to gaze at his lengthy silver beard,

or when time came to move, how tapping

his staff he sees without eyes.  No one takes notice,

hand-held screens are keeping everyone occupied.

He tells me he too has come a long way,

as well the story of his blinding

for having seen a goddess bathing naked.

I ask him if he’s Tiresias, & he nods.

I ask him what he thinks about showing up

in that famous poem; he says simply, I saw it coming.

He asks me who I think is in charge;

I say hereabouts most people esteem themselves

captains of their own destiny.

Not far from the entrance, I wonder

if he might look into the future for me---

I know he’s clairvoyant.  He says solemnly,

Cities will burn, centurions abuse their power,

the trust of the people shattered

like scattered shards of broken mirrors.

But you, my friend, shall plant an oar

on a sea-bluff near Gorgon Head,

& live good years in earshot of the sea at night

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