It rains…

It rains….inside the air that is folded toward it….it sounds its knowing making the streets glisten and the fields open their coats
and the birds listening for winter fly through it….

It rains deepening the leaves of autumn into
Their mirroring soft singing….

And what has fallen in the rain quiets the fields

Lowering its prayer

Into the earth….

Foggia ghetto


In this dreamless autumn
dark birds unknown to me form
Their ancient pattern toward some summer place

Found this small path and a prayer
Floating in a rain pool

Where the full moon will find it

And they will listen together

To the sorrow….

Psalm for us

On the Lesina plains
October 1 20

2 AM

Waking shadows 
Bring us to a place where we look back
And know we can never return....

While the sky rains voices 
Of those who are falling dancing in the
Colors of the lost....

We stand where children sang

Their small footprints 

All around....

poem of farewells
Foggia ghetto

This is the place

This is the place
Where the end fell into itself

We were there as it looked back toward us
With our empty bells and our souls
Burning in the hills

We arrived in a boat made by a quivering child

Everything fallen out of our mirrors

As we taste the first days

And the last….

The place
Foggia ghetto

They sit where horsemen have passed

They sit where horsemen have passed
Moisture rising from
the hoof prints….

Owl dreams hovering above them….

on a rainy mountain road near grove Oklahoma
A dead black one lifted its glistening wing
As I passed…..

In a haunted mansion in France
I closed the bathroom mirror the limp wings
And vacant eyes behind me….

These are the ones that chose us….

And will sit with us
While only our shadows remain

and our bones have melted away….

Thursday July 16
Lesina Italy

You are not a wolf

“You are not a wolf
And this is the land of wolves now….”
Sicario the film 2015.

Long before winter these ones sent
Their tracks looking for you….

The black dog sits among you
Its crimson eyes turned toward you

They will ask you to come out
Whether by your stench of hatred or evil fear

They sit in the blackness where you sleep

They will rise as darkness to enshroud you

They know who you are…..

We are among you

Even now….

Dog soldier poem for enemies.
Mahago domiutz tsistsistas
June 30.20

Life is not itself

It is a long journey
It is the world’s dream of us
The footprints that have led away are our own

We watched them leaving
In the silences that have taught us to be still

While the wind howled…..

It is not itself
We sit in its dampened rooms

Born so far away from ourselves
Looking back over our winged shoulders

Where the long journey began….

Painting with words
For Paul klee
From the stronghold


The Bounty Hunters

Nah he in eh woh ha doh
Ehoi yah ja oh gnaw ni dot

Edo no vo oh komeh eh tista
Nah moghda Veho

Davi idon ha aht ighiv

Hoiv ay ya dnot neuts
Eyo sidon he tista

I feel them out there
They sit under a dark sky
Waiting for coyote or Indian
Or black man

Night holds its fist in their eyes

The prairie now grown darker
Turns its face away….

Dog soldier poem

For Robbie McMurtry, Chantel Moore, Sarah Circling Bear, Zachery Bear Heels,
Jacqueline Slayers, George Floyd, Mahivist Goodblanket….a list too long to publish here.

From the stronghold
Lance henson
Cheyenne nation of Oklahoma
June 6, 20


Here is a place where nothing can die
Darkness that lives beneath the leaves
We bring our nights there without knowing
We bring our fear there before the singing begins
We bring our silent names there hoping we are forgiven
We bring our hands there scented of a river
We bring our prayers that hide and watch us
The landscape where we have held the loose feathers
Of a fallen bird
And awakened in the land of the unseen
Here is a place where nothing can die….

What has seen you

What has seen you
Saw you a long time ago
It comes back to watch you
Though sometimes you are missing
It waits with its one breath 
Listening to itself so it can remember
Often when it arrives it sounds
Like smoke
Or a burning leaf
Sometimes it sounds like its hand on your window glass
The eyes in its hand closed but for one eye
The one that remembers you….
From the dead zone texts
In continuance