Sunday, August 28, 2016

history lesson re·dux

Oh Columbia! 
-- imagined history of our ancients --
where is our emancipator of despair?
bison spirit rising ,,,,
compassionate liberation
against
political collide
pull back the veil of stars & stripes
bloodied suffering revised to fit the supremacy
Oh say can you see -- our manifest destiny?
manifest genocide
redress -- recognize
indigenous wholeness and right
nationalism expedition colonization imperialism
manifest genocide, again
 ... our destiny wrapped
in
rhyme --  rhythm
by
Jackson
Jefferson
Cooper
Whitman
Hawthorne
Longfellow
Poe
Thoreau
darkness
blackness -- native peoples demonized
whiteness christianized
in
the
killing fields of the Americas
indian country 
follow the corn trail 
the trail of tears  ..
Mayans
Olmec
Toltec
Anasazi
Pueblo
Caribs
Maroons
Powhatans
Pequot
Abenaki
Mohican
Shawnee
Delaware
Wintu
Maidu
Miwak
Omo
Wappo
Havasaupai
Nez Perce Nation
Yokuts
Iroquois Confederacy
Natchez Nation
Hopi
Apache
Navajo
Cherokee
Pawnee
Kiowa
Ojibwa
Chippewa
Seminole
Lakota
Sioux
Comanche
Muskogee Creek
Tuscaroras
Chickasaw
Choctaw
Tlingit
Salish
Makah
Hoopa
Pomo
Karok
Yurok
Shoshone
Bannock
Paiute
Ute
Haudenosaunee
Green corn dance
Ghost Dance
Sun Dance
resist
redeem
(the revolution was  not televised)
repair
.... the soul of America
primal heroism and heart of our humanity
lost
     to
          the
impossible
passable
papable
grief
inherent
to wind
to river
to wilderness
legacy awakened ....
Oh redemption!

This land is your land

storms to the east . . .









There are times when darkness lies forgotten upon my skin
hollowed & broken
knowing there is starlight but feeling the microfiber of
grey rub annoyingly
the
wrong
way
wind moves things unseen and forgotten
as i merely notice & refuse to open
ANY
box of paints
eyes close & songs are heard
whisper tracings
again dove-grey & faint & haunting . . .
there .
there.
the crackle of dreams & place
grace,
glory & knowledge find the honey-ed bleed of this night
and
shutter in their brillinat sureness
soon . . .

Friday, August 26, 2016

fledgling


beneath the white birch tree
winged creature blue ... still & grim
aura of sun fierce
captured within

offered up as a gift--a question hangs
its random relevance veiled
gamma rays ferris wheel overheard
the answer burns to a tale

undone
the white birch calls
where a downy sacrifice bleeds
blue as remembrance
fragile as campanula
something is given
as innocence is
retrieved

Saturday, August 13, 2016

pieces of June stirring . .













Take :
The shattered right femur of a girl
and add to that a green wool beret,
funny pages from the sunday paper, scrambled eggs, and paper dolls ...
the taste of snow on your tongue,
rosary beads of tulsi kapoor, a velvet Elvis painting,
and your tucked away watercolor.
Then add rain,
lots
of
rain :
the sound of rain and the smell of rain.
Add heaps & heaps of
Dr. Zhivago snow : sparkling-blue-sequined-in-the-moonlight-snow
and
nose-deep-in-tomatoes-earth,
high-altitude-earth, horse-stable-earth.
Plus rainbow trout, apples & New Orleans.
Finally stir in the flume of diesel & cigar smoke on a London street
and the bite of whiskey & jazz
along with the opalescent thrumming of a hummingbird.
Slice it smoothly deep & narrow - during the shine of this blue-green corn moon
... threaded with indigo & owl tears.
Thunder rumbles & rolls
Rain comes ...
Once long ago, I rode with my mother
as we searched for autumn leaves down a tree-lined country road.
I wore a purple coat
and my mother was so very present & the leaves were the color of her heart :
soft deer-brown, crimson with the lightest orange
When do we know that we are the same ? That we will yearn & bleed ?
When is the sky more blue than ever before and how often is a lifetime traversed
in a kiss ?
Surrender lies there
where skin meets the sun
and the day's fresh mown grass melts into evening's cool cotton sheets.
Sureness shines in your dark eyes and
forgiveness is found in the pause between seasons
and
in the heaviness of our bones.
Love is all.
And I will wake & i will remember

Thursday, August 4, 2016

underneath

i
use to
have to

trim & fold
tiny pieces of fabric
                     paper
                     forgiveness
                   
press hold mold
colors
lines
moved from mind to page
and back again
tracing
erasing

white on white

create
creation
making
maker
of
art
boiling rising unfurling
in waterfall torrents
to tame
that wild
petaled
hollow marigold
where does she reside on the quiet days?
... the unanswered days?
where is the spark of divinity's calling?
in what corner does she rest?
on what branch does she lay stretched to sun & gods gravity?

i will be surprised.




Monday, August 1, 2016

come with me ...

we scramble most days
to attach our wings of weighted feathers:
glistening violet under the sun
not awake, not yet asleep
but
somewhere in-between
dazed by days unremarkable
dumbstruck by the outline of the others rich & carouseled
how we stand in the in-between with love & grace is the test
how we shoulder those warrior feathers
in spite of
because of
tempest & frost
wind, welter & stillness
hush little baby don't you cry 
we rise
most days to vastness
to find our solace in midnight's
iridescence