Category Archives: poetry

crossing the utah border

©

home made me think of home
now i wonder where is it?
when i am traveling
my center rests above and just behind the whirr of a flying machine

sometimes, as when it rains or storms
all of the rest of me extends to create a shield
to deal softly with the threatening elements
protecting me from the ragged edges of their fury
while allowing me to be absorbed into the center of their splendor

splendor

i almost wouldn’t use the word
but it so vividly describes being inside a ravaging hailstorm
with a double rainbow setting down twenty miles due south of me
and my flying machine
as we spin seventy miles per hour worth of water off the back tire
as a quarter inch of that water floats us a quarter inch above that east bound highway

that was ‘crossing the utah border’ by stephanie . it just created itself for you to provide an image for your senses

maybe this purple pen really works

80s . from a letter

to america

©

somebody wrote the blues one day . goes like this …

somebody wrote the words to the song
about a love walked out the door
but i can’t sing about a love got lost
i’m not sure there’s gonna be a world to make love in anymore

got us a new president
used to play with guns when he was just a little boy

says we’ve got to keep up with the soviets
wants to build bombs while we all keep score
lemme tell you what his toys’ll cost
if we don’t stop him soon, he’s gonna get us into the final war

we send money to those ‘third world’ countries
to ‘promote democracy’

we pay our tax then watch our government
just shut their eyes and pick a side
now i turn and ask those elected men
how come back in vietnam all those innocent people died

i turn my eyes to el salvador
so many people dying every day

i feel like we need to take control
where our arms and monies are supplied
if we send our war toys to el salvador
we’re financing the juntas’ game … juntas’ game of genocide

i said we need to take control
because if we don’t soon, there’s not gonna be a world to make love in anymore

79 or 80

to catherine

©

i remember you ahead of me as you walked up that ol’ hill
thought i saw you dancing, you never were one to sit still
every song my voice is calling you saying please don’t die
every dream where you appear to me there’s that glimmer in your eye
impatience in your sigh

and there’s this child . she’s got your rumble in her soul
she’s always moving, but won’t be told where to go
a will just like a freight train . her love pours down like steady rain
and those same blue eyes

at times when you inspired me to more than i believed
somehow my feet kept up with yours, my pain reactors were deceived
it’s all that i can do these days to reach out and reclaim
that balance of my sorrow with the joy i feel
when calling out your name

this child …

i left you in frustration, misunderstanding what you said
the pain that wracked my body had made confusion in my head
we worked our last mistakes out through the mail and telephone
and i thought i’d see you often after i heard that dial tone

a daughter was delivered during that time i spent with you
i knew that she was coming but didn’t know what she would do
this wonder that i speak of, she is precious to behold
i hope that you are watching, as in your image she unfolds

there’s this child …

 

87 for catherine freer . when ruby was born

 

creek mary’s blood

©

red womin

pain runs from those ancient eyes
strong as a tree grows tall, you thought you’d seen it all
but the white man has brought one more surprise

red womin

you hold your grandchild in your arms
she didn’t feel the pain, but all her blood’s been drained
by the white man’s charms
moved in upon you without warning, they pushed you from your land
you could’ve given up or run, but you chose to take a stand
they left your warrior lying dead beside you with a treaty in his hand

black womin

your children labor in the sun
you look to the sky and plea for the day you can all be free
but the white man holds a gun

black womin

from dawn ’til dark you work the fields
then when the night time comes, the white man takes you in his arms
just to save your life, you yield
somehow you have no freedom, you’ll work until you die
dying won’t come easy . you’ll suffer and you won’t know why
all your hopes are for your children’s children : they’ll escape the white man’s lie

80s after reading creek mary’s blood by dee brown

 

mister

©

you can beat your wife, mister . you can beat your children, too

you can even take her life, mister . it will all come back to you

you can hassle us at work, mister . even make us do your chores

you can try to take our job, mister . we won’t let you close the door

we are women, and you can’t keep us down

 

you can line us up for battle, mister . but you’ll sit and watch us bleed

put a gun into my hand, mister . we won’t fight for what we do not need

you can build the biggest bombs, mister . send them flying through the air

when you’re left here feeling sad, mister, there’ll be no one left to care

we are your children, and we don’t need your wars

 

winter park early 80s

 

 

breath of the wind

©

i am a leaf

you are a breath of the wind

that keeps me floating above the routine of the earth

i am a leaf

i am a bird

you are a breath of the wind

that keeps me flying in the clouds above the mountain peaks

i am bird

flying . flying

i am a tree

you are a breath of the wind

that keeps me dancing to the music in my veins

i am a tree

i am a spirit

you are a breath of the wind

 

80s

 

we drum

med·i·cine
[ˈmedəsən]
NOUN

the practice of diagnosis, treatment, and prevention of dis-ease

spell, charm, or fetish believed to have healing, protective, or other power

 

per·cuss
[pərˈkəs]
VERB

gently tap (a part of the body) with a finger or an instrument to diagnose
“the heart was percussed”

 

HEART FOUND TO BE NEEDING MORE PERCUSSION

 

per·cus·sion
[pərˈkəSHən]
NOUN

musical instruments played by striking with hand, stick or beater, or by shaking, including drums, cymbals, xylophones, gongs, bells, rattles

the striking of one solid object with or against another

wind producing a clattering percussion of tree branch against stone

 

rhythm

[ˈriT͟Həm]
NOUN

a strong, regular, repeated pattern

 

WOMEN BLEED WITH REGULARITY, IN PREDICTABLE RHYTHM WITH THE MOON

 

drum
[drəm]
VERB

play on a drum
NOUN

a percussion instrument sounded by being struck with sticks or hands, typically cylindrical, barrel-shaped, or bowl-shaped with a taut membrane over one or both ends

something resembling or likened to a drum in shape, in particular

an evening or afternoon tea party of a kind that was popular in the late 18th and early 19th century
 

WOMEN GATHERED IN A DRUM, TO DRUM

 

raised arm
open hand

striking sacrificed skin of lamb, buffalo, horse, goat
mined metal or carved wooden frame or vessel vibrating
producing antidote

we drum . we become drum

closed heart opening with each beat of drum
pounding of heart opening chakra after chakra
reopened channels funneling divine nourishment
body and spirit align
we dine on sound
dancing around the cherished goddess, embodied in teacher
we again become the goddess

we learn . we become teacher
we heal . we become healer

marimba sneaks up to the drum
dances it’s peaceful, seductive mantra alone
rhythm marries tone
frequent high and low wooden voice
speaks to it’s lover with ease
drum and marimba resonate
a palpable palliative essence

air passes from lung to tip of tongue, past pursed lips
or through wide open mouth
controlled by larynx
toned muscle delivering tonal clarity
muscle contraction release contraction release
spatial compression expansion compression expansion

trapping air, releasing POP
capturing air, releasing BA . bo bo

words from any language sung in rhythm
whispered secret
murmured grief
melodic healing tone
cry of anguish
exclamation of joy
healing verbal expression bringing relief

we sing . we become song

closed heart opening with each beat of drum
pounding through sorrow

dun dun . dun dun . dun dun
taka taka
dun dun
taka taka
dun dun . dun dun . dun dun
taka taka
dun dun
taka taka
dun dun

reopened channels funneling divine nourishment
body and spirit align
we dine on sound
 

born to drum 2016 : 10th anniversary

   

murdered twice

murdered twice
a thousand times
noose, baton, bullet to the back
each electric jolt makes me shed my skin
i molt
then return again
with heart that you lack

you killed my body
then slandered my name
murdered me twice
in your violent game
lynched me as emmet
lynched me, tamir
you never dreaming
that your end is near

murder me now
keep eyes peeled for when
a million of me stand before you
flowers in hand, guns at the ready
we band together to tear you apart
by any means necessary
we’ll make a new start without you

my name is tamir
my name is emmet
my name is tamir
my name is emmet
my name is tamir
my name is emmet
rice and till

bound together by your violence
my name is legion

worries

waking at every sound
or no sound at all
startled by silence
footprints down the hall

ghosts of real and imagined threat
wafting from rafters
crouching under floorboards
smirking from behind paintings of safe places
seeping out from fountains of fear
pent up emotion paces
exploding from mountains of weariness
years of exhaustion
my face wet
each teardrop an expression of grief
my own or someone else’s loss
engraved like a tattoo on my heart
then another, and another
just when i start to recover
yet another grieving father and mother appear

these worries are as real as my face
changing form with the mood
tangible as bills not paid
a table without food

we eat his words for breakfast

honoring the prophet john trudell

 

prophet is dragged away kicking and screaming
or silently dreaming
leaving the battle behind

world steadily turning
churning with degradation, greed, confusion
reed blowing soft notes
whispering lamentation
reminder that earth is mother
humanity is other

voice of reason dispersed
tiny particles of sound joining ancestors
enormous soul of love joining ancestors
booming voice of warning joining ancestors

tiny particles of sound joining with my own soul
enormous soul of love joining with my own soul
booming voice of warning joining with my own soul

we suffer this loss in tearful silent weeping
loud wailing
intermittent grieving

as this spirit departs
our own spirits, refilled with passion
rise up to the daunting task
we will be replacing this guiding voice
with a million of our own tiny voices

intermittent grieving
alternating with bursts of new action

this one soul departing
leaving many souls replenished

as we bemoan loss of this prophet
we eat his words for breakfast
shoring up our promise to continue his work
his courage becomes our own
his depth of knowing infuses our brains
his unrelenting tenacity
infusing our blood
a life sustaining transfusion
emphatically dispersing delusion

deadly forces lurking in shadows
now struggling to emerge
as the one voice of one man
multiplies to millions

the prophet becomes the people
the people become the prophet