
Milvia Street
Art and Literary Journal
BERKELEY CITY COLLEGE ARTISTS AND WRITERS (BERKELEY)
The new Milvia Street Art and Literary Journal recognizes 20 years of survival and the hard work of students and faculty of Berkeley City College. The collaborative project is supported by grants made by the Peralta Foundation and Berkeley Civic Arts commission. 
(Photo: Sharon Coleman and Birtukan Beyenessa)
The 2009 edition features over 40 artists and writers, nearly half of whom are poets. This is much to the credit of Sharon Coleman, poetry instructor at the school, who has a green-thumb for growing poets. The work in the journal is above average when one considers that it is “student” work, but so many of the writers in BCC classrooms are already accomplished, published writers who have returned to school to refine their skills, jumpstart a project, or enjoy community. 
(Photo is Carla Kandinsky, MK Chavez, and Birtukan Beyenessa)
Take poet and storyteller Carla Kandinsky for example: Kandinsky is a much-loved poet and artists’ model who has been active in the Bay Area’s poetry scene for several decades. Portraits of Kandinsky adorn walls and chapbooks throughout the region, and in this issue of Milvia Street, Kandinsky is represented by two send-ups of fairy tales:
The prince doesn’t care how long
she naps within the wall of roses
and thorns. His good gardening
gloves, best clippers, were stolen
when a thief broke into his car.
It’s been years since he saw her,
how does she look, all this time
without root touch-ups? She could
be a sleeping disaster.
(from “Sleeping Beauty”)
Kandinsky’s sly touch adds mischievous humor to the poems in Milvia Street, many of which are much more somber and provocative. Students’ work includes poems on geopolitics (it is Berkeley, after all), spiritual pathways, and life on the streets, as in Cassandra Dallett’s “Every Other Week”:
Splurbs from the Letter Box
Some Letters from Our Readers
“ . . . wanted to say what a knock-out poem, the one called “She Died” by Jean Georgakopoulos.”
-- Jerry Ratch, Oakland
“Thanks for liking my poem “Delicatessen” enough to select that piece for inclusion in our recent issue. You are obviously dedicated to the composition and dissemination of poetry that readers can readily understand and, hopefully, appreciate on some level of emotion and intellect. . . . It is the form of a poetic text that gives it its structure upon which the poet may deftly (even defiantly . . . ) place her/his string of word- pearls so that the precious figment of imaginative STORY can work its magic in the mind of the reader.”
--Stephen Kopel, San Francisco
“The issue of BAPSR containing your thoughtful and nuanced review of my collection arrived this morning. You are an astute reader and I am impressed as well as deeply grateful. There are many reasons to write poetry, but to publish it? Really only one: to invite conversation. I couldn’t have asked for a more insightful response.”
--Tracy Koretsky, Oakland
Romper Room with Beer
Poem by Jerry Ratch of Oakland, California
We go out for a thin New York Pizza
at Lanesplitter’s over on Telegraph
and watch the drunks
staggering out of the bar across the street
to have a smoke on the sidewalk
since you can’t smoke inside bars anymore.
They gather on the sidewalk in front
like a pack of hungry wolves
eyeing everything that
crosses their path,
hooting as a girl walks by
with her skirt hiked up.
Lanesplitter’s Pizza is where the punk
moms and dads go
with their kids
and it gets real loud in there
and everybody’s lapping up beer
by the pitcher
and the kids are running
all over the place,
sometimes right out the front door,
almost into traffic
before they can snag the
little urchins by their
tee-shirt or their little
red jacket.
And nobody seems to
notice or give it much thought
and they go out on the sidewalk
in front and grab a smoke,
looking over at the
lonely childless drunks
across the street
at the bar
where the hookers go
strolling by,
while the crowd at Lanesplitter’s Pizza
wavers to loud rock like human seaweed
and the kids swirl in a smaller
school of their own fish,
and it’s like Romper room
with beer.
--Jerry Ratch (Oakland)
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