who can be my emerson

going to be holy

2012-02-09T18:53:00.001-05:00

electric tongue. river melt tongue. sacred spit
over the bridge. get ready. we’re going to be holy
red tree breeze go into me
please enter me
-
spring sadness. kurt vile lo-fi twilight
blood-taste metallic in my mouth. longing
for the pure thaw coming. scent of warm snow
the entrance to eternity

these are my secrets

2012-02-08T10:49:00.000-05:00

at dinner “where’s the music” you ask
“I hear louis armstrong mumbling low”
I say, then the horns brighten up
the dizziness & lights & cold breathlessness –
we’re in a seed –
we can say whatever we want and no one
can hear or see us
we’re in a red beer glass – you telling me
about the thread you have to burn you love so much -
my mind gone with the wind ice splintered outside
possessed by the blue cold
cherry buzz

*
starlings fly by in the hundreds
with their human songs they sway
with wing beats

deep red dawn sky this morning told me
it was going to snow

at the crossroads I traded my tongue for music
built my boat now gotta sail it

pick up the electric bits and light them
with wing beats

*
my heroes come and crack open the
earth and the clouds wink at me. rolling
fast it’s all we can do. the fake
plants become real. a man begins to fix
a shattered window in front of me.
these are my secrets

frosted tree blues

2012-02-06T07:33:00.001-05:00

the songs and chill wet air dipping me into another plane
the spirit tapping my arm as i cross the bridge, i take its hand
i look out at the ice blue river changing with me my legs turn to feather and wing
blessed to have my favorite accompany me on my journey. blessed for the rock n roll – the wailing blues
heart song of this place – convert my eyes, shift and bloom my eye balls with chord changes

meet you by the stone in the woods

2012-02-02T19:04:00.001-05:00

white dusted forest

let my wish
sit here a while on damp
log let some river flower
grow from my mouth
steady current
big fat hawk walking crow
here are my gifts to you
sunny morning frost on the line

Three Rooms Press

2012-02-02T14:32:00.000-05:00

love with Three Rooms Press

robins & starlings drunk on red berries

2012-02-02T14:20:00.002-05:00

come on the bus and ride with me. pick me up by the arms and unfreeze it all. heal the sick and in pain.

we're gonna live in the trees

2012-02-02T09:19:00.002-05:00

remembering

2012-01-25T16:18:00.001-05:00

"Erected in Memory of Joseph Orono

Catholic Indian Chief

By The Knights of Columbus 1911"

winter’s been keeping us off our bicycles, so now we walk by this monument every morning on our way to work. a top its pedestal, the granite peak stands about sixteen feet high.

we find it a disturbing monument. it celebrates joseph orono for embracing catholicism – a religion that did so much to damage native american peoples. from the beginning of european trespass in america, catholicism has contributed to colonizing, abuse and oppression of indigenous tribes. a catholic church was placed on indian island in the 1600s, native youth were sent to boarding schools where they were severely abused and told their language, spirituality and way of life was wrong. treacherous acts of inhumanity were committed against indigenous people in the name of catholicism. columbus was no knight, he was a mass murderer.

the joseph orono monument is a phallic symbol – a symbol that became an instrument for racist, misogynistic and pedophilic abuses. here the phallus takes on the form of a grave marker – it represents destruction of chief orono’s land and people. in this moment of now, we want our phallus’ to be synonymous with love and gentle masculinity – not with guns and destruction. we do not get off on violence. we become erect from kindness, beauty and love. we become high from seeing art come from places and having music washed over our skin – spreading us out into the atmosphere. we don’t want to go around spilling petroleum into the water, soil, air and red sun. we want to go around like leaves in the wind spreading song.

the town of orono was named after chief joseph orono. other than the town sign— picturing a cartoonish image of a chief orono in headdress - making it look as though indigenous people no longer exist in this area—the gray, out of the way monument outside the senior housing complex -shown above- is the only marker recognizing the penobscot tribe in town. it’s a shame. orono is home to the state’s flagship university, located on marsh island. marsh island was leased to a white farmer by the penobscots. rather than honoring his lease, he claimed he owned the land and sold it. stealing it from the tribe. the town and university owe its existence to indigenous people and their land.

the land carries the memories of destruction and memories of the people who endured—and survived—genocide. whites tried to make it so that native peoples were wiped out—vanished. now there are only four out of over two-dozen tribes left in the wabanaki confederacy of maine and maritime indians—yet thankfully, indigenous people have survived the american holocaust against all odds—and in this moment, are rejuvenating their land, traditions and selves. wabanaki people were born to be the caretakers of maine lands—and we need to honor them for it. the town of orono should showcase and celebrate works by living wabanaki artists. we propose that there be riverside statues commemorating native american heroes and their achievements. these monuments could be seen in town and on campus. we are on the land of indigenous people—we must respect its history and the people who were born here to care for it.

the river carries its dead, it carries the memory of its dead, it carries the memories of its land that has seen heartbreaking evil, blood and destruction, the river cradles the dead and carries them to the sea where they are given rebirth and renewal – where they are brought back to the river to be remembered again. the river carries the dead, the river carries the islands’ memories of massacre and disgrace – out to the sea to be reborn. the river and sea renew us this way. the sun rises from the river out of the valley, and from the bay deeper down, red and gold bloom.

the trees are fragile, strong and brave elders. we look out at the ice blue river changing with us, and our legs turn to feather and wing. blessed by the wailing blues heart song of this place–our eyes convert to blooms

budding mist

2012-01-24T09:20:00.004-05:00

dark night

2012-01-22T14:20:00.003-05:00

I watched the crow eat black meat then cry out
I walked along the river & listened to the hush of
ice gently speaking blue heart. this land
so alive and enspirited. my shadow glow the layers of
my ancestral chart – the aura of all of them.
I was too endreamed to go into the lady’s house.
fire trucks screeched by. I was glad you texted
to say you’d made it. my gone bird.
I stood in the field praying to the pinetops.
give me strength. I walked into the condo
it was red inside. warm. wood floor. old people
talking low. I couldn’t face it. I backed out.
I thought to leave the banana bread in the yard
then thought it better to leave it for the crows.
I laughed, the night laughed, an ancient apprentice
I picked up a big pine cone, smelled it and put it back down
I thought of bb singing, you better not look down
if you want to keep on flying

some moments in song

2012-01-18T15:12:00.002-05:00

the crows meet up at the end of the day and
roost together in rows of trees in grimmest places
the line of pines the crows' home

stay above board, they say,
waved in from the doorway

she said take the overwhelm and make it small
so small it can fit in the palm of your hand

I become a giant then

hey crow. you can listen or let go
I walked and walked in the moon beat
to get myself clean. & she was by
the fire. talking about stars & the unseen

asking me how I was doing. good now that you sat down
& calmed me with your perfume cool

making it all small, I become enormous

there are more poets in prison than education.
when in doubt quote whitman.

bowl of berries on the ground under all
the chairs. an offering. I tune out
my ears so I don’t picture the blood words
but my dreams will still know. look
at the heart bag, listen to the hall
why have I felt so ashamed, as if I sold myself
I miss my gone bird giving me light

*
walking up from the shore trying to face it
pressed play on the ipod shuffle & oceanic came on –
harp light – I looked up & bald eagle low
was looking down at me – looking down the shore -
embodiment of god & everyone I love.
in my belly the snow salt cool of rock shore.
searching for me. searching for the one I love.
blessing kid. this is your gift. this is your cool illumination
to fill you with rush tears and bring prayer
to your lips. walking thru ice field harp elevation
I have hung out with god. blessings flown
over me. the white head brown winter wings
yellow beak come out of the ocean. come from the unseen.
can go invisible and come out to say it’s ok kid.
you’re meant for this. I’m with you. then “it’s only life”
came on the ipod. hide away. nothing matters and what if it did.
it’s only life. sad holy holy comere kid. remember me. the hidden holy
coming up from the shore. being strong to stay alive. looking
for the ones I love. you’re alright kid cool belly
all my crows become you please
go to all I love

the black rooster in ice yard
the spearmint gum handed to me
by her the juiciest freshest
she pulled out an orange. I held
in my hand like darwish.
I’m the kid with the gold beak god

where laughter is forbidden
you’ve got to learn to put on a happy face
the eagle was spry tilted down to take me in its wing

the sweetest most refreshing juice
images/feelings as people
the cool smell of good music

becoming winter

2012-01-17T16:00:00.002-05:00

lung ice song

2012-01-04T10:31:00.001-05:00

my teeth fly out in the wind like when I was young. “michael’s first real day,” a soul rides by. who are all these sliding shapes? how did I get here? the bottom of a fish tank. I must relearn to swim so I can get back with the crows who sing the blues afro indian style. these toads are cheery it’s their new year wish. they don’t know I’m dreaming them. dragging my body along like dusk. sleep walking this whole scene. phhwish thru the fountain & back to the clouds. my shadow startles me – then I remember it’s my guardian flicker teaching me to be invisible. they’re just trying to live. I’m just trying to dream. to live up to their wishes for me & heed their yearnings. the water’s warm here. heavy as it is. when I wake I pull the devil card – then put it back to the bottom of the deck to hide the chained lovers. “I was flying with a butterfly head trying to climb a hill” in the night the coughing & crying kept me peeled with furry moon drops infusing the street lamps with a dull electronic beat. I laid with ice lungs before I had to put the chains back on. our bodies linked. his fingers soft blooms . my eyes burning lightly. adjust to their orbits. bloom thru my lips. they’re watching softly from tree height as I bring my bike out of kitchen. they even have lungs to speak when air is ice. they share their feathers with me as I follow threads thru slow freeze

bloom

2012-01-03T12:00:00.001-05:00

for a dream

2012-01-03T11:59:00.001-05:00

flying

2011-12-29T08:56:00.001-05:00

summer memory

2011-12-29T08:55:00.001-05:00

icing

2011-12-23T12:07:00.001-05:00

release

2011-12-16T08:57:00.005-05:00

come to the yard
each morning to jazz the dead
& carry the star
bread off to the river -
trees all vein glow -
bark speaking low - I want
to live in the roots - me
the blue leaves - me
the teal seeds - twenty doves
meet on the line –
sing: have a free
soul while body’s locked
behind. jack of diamonds
lying soaked. gotta beat
this game thru
praying to the trees

frosted crow blues

2011-12-15T11:11:00.001-05:00

thought it was someone walking behind
me but it was crows eating bark
& gulls talking purr
foam on the river how they pollute you - paint
on your bank

friends

2011-12-07T09:04:00.001-05:00

little lost

2011-12-02T13:28:00.003-05:00

wheat heads rattling in the wind
quiet now
my life ahead
lung louder than clock

out west

2011-11-29T12:01:00.002-05:00

if you drag that river all the way to the sea, that's where my baby might be

2011-11-21T13:40:00.003-05:00

good river be good to me

2011-11-21T13:37:00.001-05:00

we don't want to kill

2011-11-15T12:50:00.002-05:00

office sunset

2011-11-10T11:21:00.001-05:00

what i'm up to

2011-11-07T14:22:00.000-05:00

visitations

2011-11-04T14:23:00.000-04:00

two eagles sat in the tree looking in the house
she knew they were blessed

salty hands. there’s been ghosts
up here all night
making rackets

salty lips. moving papers

*
striped chipmunk not afraid
of me his brown black & white coat
& shining eyes a silver miracle
like the frosted grass. stuffing maple seeds
into his cheeks. he is the start
of maple tree. he is the spread & seed
pine that dropped a sap shell
cone in the street I picked up as I ran
by & carried to the forest

*
blue woodpeckers came to eat the
maple bugs & listen to
me strum in the green grass bloom
smelling of transforming perfume
shadow wet secret. grass blade
bugs I used to fixate on for endless time
as a child making me
lose myself again.
the exactness of afternoon shadows
in indian summer
birds & bugs come back & leaf breeze
throaty huff smoothed by wind
moving the wind chimes I realize
the chipmunk lives behind the porch
jumps out at me with eyes
glinting slow fog

*
“i dream of the dead,
kind, brilliant, comforting.
the lost return to us
when we are lost.” –carolyn kizer

you saying I want to record that

2011-11-02T15:14:00.000-04:00

sound like bells

when I played a sad song-a & c
in the dark rain. thinking
of passing from this
world, talking about chi, not the wave
but in the wave

leaves in death

skin like petals, apples

walk singing a star
fish song on
the bottom of the sea

sink or swim

we drank each other
in the kitchen. now play
the gold guitar rain
on tin

white seed fields. take pictures

the kitchen light flickin on
saying hi to visitors

*

what’s the wind
forecast? crows rise
a blue flower, human hand
ghost pressure today. peel air
took a silver swig of water
& it knocked me down. coated
my teeth with electricity. pulled
out my cheeks & made me
stagger lay down & watch the
silver sky move past in light
and red lung fire leaf out window
I pray with crows. we stare at each other
with the source of life. the minute
I look away, crow is gone

all saints day with crow & shine

2011-11-01T13:51:00.000-04:00

chinatown & church

2011-10-31T11:28:00.002-04:00

sweet tooth

2011-10-26T14:50:00.000-04:00

I had a hard candy in my mouth and it lasted on and on, my tongue dipping in and out of a soft honey center. the sensation was electrifying the back of my eyes. I was seeing in waves of light. it became so enamoring it distracted me from the conversation I was having. so I bit the candy & it broke
into slippery sweet teeth laughing inside my cheeks

fall kayaking with clouds

2011-10-26T11:11:00.000-04:00

good field

2011-10-26T11:10:00.000-04:00

snake on the bridge

2011-10-21T15:45:00.002-04:00

fall sings

2011-10-17T15:33:00.000-04:00

images

2011-10-13T12:59:00.001-04:00

2011-10-13T12:58:00.001-04:00

lineage

2011-10-13T12:32:00.001-04:00

cousin traveling between
great lakes and friday

dad working for dow
chemical on bombs

crow harking songs at dawn

don’t let this blood
burn up my veins

enough

2011-10-07T15:40:00.002-04:00

she tells me she’ll be
getting some money
from the canadian
government. got a payment
a few years back
because they sprayed
agent orange on her tribal
lands. now it’s proven they sprayed
agent purple
and agent white too

she played in the woods in it as a kid.
the orange pine was sick
and spreading. the smell of wet
earth was cursed.
“my dad died young,
my mom died young,
my brother fell down
when I visited him.” agents poisoned

the thunder, a shock of moan.
lightning walks with blinded
eyes of a vanished
animal, turns to deafening shriek.
she’s had headaches since she was a kid.
walks with tumors in her feet.
what have they done
to the most generous ones?
what money is
enough?

RE: American torture practices, Guantanamo Bay, etc.

2011-10-05T14:29:00.000-04:00

dear president obama,

is it amercian to make red
flags from the pulp of human beings?
to look the other way
when people are torn from their ancient
lands for having brown skin & turned
to blankets of blood,
bouquets of ripped out muscle?
is it american to beat a human
rose to blood sap stomped light
and crush it back together so that it
can be destroyed again? is it american to treat
people worse than animals? to blow them up
like balloons until their hands
and heads are all water?
to chain them to freezing cold concrete,
starve them, drown them, force them
to take drugs? my american way of comfort
is not worth the death & torture of brown people

what would you do if we lost electricity?

2011-10-04T14:04:00.003-04:00

i'd go into the forest
be a forager
build fires and boil water
make shelter
hang around my indian friends
cause they‘ve known how
to make it in the wild
since the beginning

images of the week

2011-09-30T10:34:00.001-04:00

the educating your white friends at the kitchen table blues

2011-09-27T11:03:00.006-04:00

-where is this systematic racism you’re talking about?

-this country was founded on it:
genocide.
broken treaties.
bounties for scalps.
small pox blankets.
stealing the land.
damming the rivers.
killing the fish.
boarding schools.
abuse by priests.
forced assimilation.
chronic despair.
slavery.
lynchings.
jim crow
segregation.
shackles on the feet
of crow god.
poverty.
substandard
schools, jobs, housing.
no health care.
born with generations of trauma
on your back.
higher death rates.
dying younger.
suicide.
goodnight irene.
whites benefiting from it.
internalized oppression.
black and blue
addiction.
diabetes.
immigration control.
deportation.
japanese internment camps.
muslims treated like terrorists.
torture. quantanamo bay.
palestinian occupation.
1973 chilean coup.
censored history.
for the profit of few.
hurricane katrina.
war. how billie holiday was
made to use the backdoor.
imprisonment. troy davis.
kill you when you’re innocent

misfits on the trail

2011-09-23T14:11:00.001-04:00

light show

2011-09-22T10:24:00.001-04:00

dream

2011-09-20T11:52:00.000-04:00

there was a brown & black horse in my bedroom. i started talking to it and it seemed to understand me. It came closer and nuzzled me. It wanted to get up on the bed, and I didn't want it to, but I felt bad telling it no. So it laid down on my bed and went to sleep. I was excited about the idea of riding it to work the next morning.

woods

2011-09-20T11:45:00.001-04:00

river

2011-09-20T11:43:00.004-04:00

reflection

2011-09-16T16:49:00.001-04:00

what u doin in Irene?

2011-09-15T11:39:00.002-04:00

saying hello to the rain what a rain

come in from the Caribbean & soul
of a whale bone. crazy drummer
honey singer say hello

listening to the wind
the guitar neck reached into me
deeper than its let me go before
let me swim in under its water
notes showed themselves to me
the way medicinal plants speak their
purpose. wind
called around us, slippery
slick handed wind

my guardian

2011-09-15T11:38:00.001-04:00

plays a giant harp

sits at the kitchen table & flirts
with everyone in a way
that makes me laugh.

leads me thru beach paths in summer
tells me there’s a huge person
walking at the bottom of the sea

if I had my way

2011-09-12T12:21:00.003-04:00

I would strip nude,
join the rising river, sail against

the current. bury myself
in the weeds. I’d live in the

cedar holes like the woodpecker

fragrant earth sticking to me.

my heart

2011-09-07T16:39:00.001-04:00

this morning running

2011-09-01T11:26:00.004-04:00

thru dying leaf scent,
you said, you were in my dream.
we were in the underworld.
I didn’t know anyone,
but you had some friends there,
& I waited at the bar for you.
then you became an infant, & people
were holding you, saying you’d bloom

*
the vulnerability of being
a moth transforming itself
on maple tree in rain
the vulnerability of being a flower

*
tiny spiders bloom
from my water-filled hands

images of the week

2011-09-01T10:10:00.001-04:00

dream

2011-08-31T10:42:00.002-04:00

pulling up dry dead roots
that looked like ginger, i tossed them,
then saw they had been supporting
other roots of lush tomato plant.
i panicked at the healthy
stalk falling over, looked
for more dirt, started digging up
my kitchen floor,
found a body of red meat
underneath it

I dreamed of blooming

2011-08-30T10:56:00.001-04:00

I compose poetry behind closed eyes:
a man comes in talking bout okra & the clouds are herds
of the freest you they have not killed yet
a cloud on my tongue
a hand in my hand
a web round my shoulder

nina simone saying,
take these laurels,
& the summit of universe,
keep them in a brown bag.

huge moth

2011-08-29T14:30:00.001-04:00

lands on my arm
as I hang
laundry. spooks
me I brush off
he goes flying
into dead leaves
of sick maple
I apologize & thank
him for visiting

spider web in my head

2011-08-26T11:04:00.002-04:00

I asked the red bird
to take a car ride with me.
she said thanks & flew.

I learned to float by
falling out of a drunken boat at two.
Bear Lake loved me & I loved it.

spider's web, water skiier

2011-08-25T13:48:00.000-04:00

teeth grinder

2011-08-25T13:04:00.002-04:00

you lost your night guard,
dream bit.
now you go to sleep
sitting up, saying please
jaw don’t clench
and scrape. don’t scratch away
ear drums.

but all your hidden ache
comes throbbing
to your mouth.
you know when you wake
to skull surges,
lips torn,
chips of bone
hardening your belly.

what makes you
move so ghostly night?
shiver, chatter
chomp on words,
bite in musical
beats, break up
soft face.

become finely tuned
by silver flint of cavity
fillings, electric
tongue, silent
listening

wind rushes you,
glitters you over the bridge.
a moon in your mouth. birds pull
your sharpened
stars.

hear me

2011-08-23T16:10:00.000-04:00

check out "the accompanist" 6, first audio addition, streaming for free

images of the week

2011-08-18T16:31:00.001-04:00

2011-08-18T16:30:00.001-04:00

taj mahal

2011-08-17T11:53:00.001-04:00

Taj Mahal came out an eternal moon, rocking huge as his name. In rapture, almost seventy, he danced with his guitar like it was a beautiful woman turning to smoke. He is a powerful tree of a man. Witchy eyed, spitting mist, waterfalls sweated from his panama hat. We both wore bright pink shirts that cast flames of heart ore. We talked about horses when our eyes met. He sang medleys as if possessed by Nina Simone: trouble in mind, lord I’m blue, but I won’t be blue always, sun gonna shine on my backdoor someday. Swamp bass line held my throat, moonlight filled my lungs. How how how how Taj Mahal growled like Howlin Wolf, breathless cutting off words like Mississippi John Hurt.

bringing the pacific to the atlantic

2011-08-09T16:45:00.002-04:00

rainbow

2011-08-09T16:43:00.002-04:00

waking dreams

2011-08-02T14:27:00.001-04:00

you cut
my hair outside
in crow rapture
leaves behind
us come rattling
in women’s voices
big hawk gliding over

creaks on the stairs
green talking
river thought
pine cone fruits
bouncing from tops of trees
want to touch
the wet bank stones
wind washing
sweet smoke coming
up from the woods

on the shore black dog
and old woman
silver spider rode
on my boat with me
i am not afraid
of i just say
please don’t spook me

mountain ash
you thought was rose tree
running clouds
cover me
lavender ground
in adoration of wind
speaking back to it with praises
my waters are pulled back
to the moon

blessed light

2011-08-01T11:11:00.001-04:00

because you're mine

2011-07-26T09:24:00.002-04:00

day trip

2011-07-25T11:40:00.001-04:00

owl on top story window

best clouds for road tops

black lipstick on stereo

crisp too

giant skinny spider

been living in car

for weeks crawled up my leg

I let fly

out the window

fallen feathers feel

like spiders now.

passing mystic lodge.

portfolio of grasses

glass maps on the ground

seeing a badger last night

leaning gold bears on the porch

hanging antlers & sea moons

a mermaid took a drag

from my cigarette

then handed it back

wet lipped

yellow day

2011-07-25T11:39:00.001-04:00

night swimming with merpoets

2011-07-25T11:37:00.002-04:00

mouthfuls

2011-07-22T15:09:00.002-04:00

a passing manifesto

2011-07-22T14:56:00.002-04:00

craft stories into chants

speak in poem

water drips onto me from car window

boys play with shooting stars

bicyclists drop embers in dark streets

crow feather gifts

the river easing & evening me

a mirror the sky laid in, the clouds went away

must believe the poet’s voice needs to be heard

so speak & act & make an example

need to chant & sing & plant seeds

a nurturing builder like the beavers

bless and greet all life. recognize the spirit everywhere

trees are no less than people

our bodies are filled with oceans of soul

it smells like seashells in between the doors

no introduction necessary, this is cosmic energy

we can be gypsies and build our houses anywhere

white belly up fish floated by

as I remembered waking from a dream

with my arms held straight up as if reaching for god

hope something eats that fish belly and sings praise to the water

why did they cut down that biggest tree & leave only concrete?

letter to patti smith

2011-07-20T10:14:00.001-04:00

I’m trying to see into your prism world. where gardens of light appear in strange places and connect everything to everything. you show me how to start from homelessness and build yourself as an artist. you show me how to believe in eternal love above all else. you show me how to emulate your heroes and stay humble. tonight I’m spreading butter on the fine points of the stars to grease the night like you taught me. the moon is full and my friends are paddling under it in borrowed boats. I’m washed to shore on Redondo Beach, where my mother is from, and you lost someone. the tides are most extreme tonight. we’re remembering to keep our finger on the pulse of mysterious energy. I gather your controlled rage when I need a lift. I gather your self-belief. I feel no guilt. you guide me with your rock n’roll. I meet you at that little farm in New England and you teach me crow cadence and tone. we die and are reborn.

homeland

2011-07-20T10:06:00.000-04:00

where I’m from, angels
appear in the hills
with no words in their mouths
and songs in their black eyes
that see beyond it all

in Nevada the water has wings
and the salt is mingled with medicine
that floats me in silver
and gives me rest
by a lake of lost words

ancestral knowledge

2011-07-19T14:10:00.003-04:00

in the presence of poets
you will feel the most
yourself

look up at the clouds
gasping, we are out
of the ashes

plant the seeds
they give you
and make more fruit

softness of hands,
a pen with no ink
traces vanished words

the meaning of the koan
comes when not
thinking

I wish I could
walk invisible
with poets along the shore

hawk flown over
my sky so many times
come down to talk to me

thank you to my dead
who must be
pulling strings for me

raw nerved & flooded
veins confessing
adoration

now I will be
a disciple
of kindness

rocknrollpoets: patricia smith & joy harjo

2011-07-19T14:06:00.000-04:00

roots

2011-07-19T14:05:00.001-04:00

dream running

2011-07-19T14:04:00.001-04:00

stonecoast visions

2011-07-19T14:02:00.001-04:00

the sound of the piper draws me near

2011-07-07T16:00:00.000-04:00

you playing harmonica on river rock with wind

kid sparks

2011-07-01T10:08:00.001-04:00

honey river boating

2011-07-01T10:07:00.002-04:00

fresh eggs & running with crows

2011-06-29T11:44:00.002-04:00

yes

2011-06-27T11:56:00.000-04:00

being light - summer solstice

2011-06-21T14:31:00.000-04:00

Important article: whites need to be aware of our white privilege & to think about how to undermine it

2011-06-20T11:29:00.004-04:00

river gifts

2011-06-17T11:38:00.001-04:00

looking for a sign

2011-06-16T10:12:00.003-04:00

the after the flood green
of the ferns
the bow of the evening
light on the street trees
the bounce of the piano
and the song defiant
in joy, the shine
of the steel on the stool
the chime of the drums
the bless of the smoke
the pull of my thoughts
lifts me out into green
tint air

the neighbors are
feuding-
how we break
each other’s hearts

little black birds
on the trail became butterflies
on the trail
and little girls wore peace
t-shirts

song

2011-06-15T11:19:00.000-04:00

the ashes are buried real low
on the banks we go down slow
on the banks we go down slow
the ashes are buried real low
two flew away with the crow
on the banks we go down slow

the house is so deep and dark
ya the house is so deep and dark
two voices sing softly together
that the night’s gonna last forever
ya the house is so deep and dark

we’re gonna go down real slow
to the night by ocean we’ll go
to the mountain by highway we’ll go
we’re gonna go down real slow

carried out on the moonlit waves
carried out on the moonlit waves
carried out on the moonlit waves
the path that the tide’s mood paves
carried out on the moonlit waves

sunset tug

2011-06-14T14:00:00.003-04:00

sop-light filter
silver web
ball in gutter
thinness we are / here
spare tire bought
with my dead
saving me 6 years later
knife rain peel away
night ache
dead hawk, moose on bridge
invisible badger
basket maker gone crazy
turning against
the shock of feeling
grief gets stuck thru
me, gutter storm
pouring silver
wheeled the wounded
car home
shapes thru trees
we walked around the white
dress like dancing
with a ghost

gods & juggalos

2011-06-14T14:00:00.000-04:00

masked, wigged youths
in jerseys on the side
of the freeway talking
to cops
were their faces
painted? your voice
trailed as we
sped

people tied down
a giant wooden eagle
its wings
outstretched

a woman shape hung
with the moon

*

I heard a man say
“my amaryllis
are blooming”

each of us with wounded
hands

a fly appearing on
the window I rolled
down & let escape

green departure

getting a flat on the bridge
you whispered
tow truck, tow truck
send us to another dimension

the cars shook us
waiting in dirty
mist scents jacked up
in the rain
how we break
each other’s hearts

salvation army

2011-06-13T15:35:00.003-04:00

spider births

2011-06-10T10:30:00.001-04:00

high water voyagers

2011-06-10T10:29:00.002-04:00

where knowing comes

2011-06-09T11:30:00.005-04:00

yellow monarch
butterfly
crosses the current
to the island

salt fish breeze
makes us hunger

eagle white
from branch
fills us
with direction

our boats thud over
teeth chiseled spears
that guard sand bank burrows

we enter the beaver den
like lost coyotes
sinking into dark mud
we feel beaver lungs
move the current
they teach us how

to eat the waves

and weave the reeds

and cover our backs

with leaf glow

to swim in silent

tree prayer