Courtesy @persisabella on Instagram
Two dog soldier poems from the cheyenne
A bird has flown out of my eyes
It’s song is made of the whirlwind….
Who can feel the sound that follows them
Can see forever….
It is a good day to live…..
My medicine has grown
Strange and wild…..
Let me pass
I am taking care of you….
Henahaneh mahagodomiuts ehiwoh.
For a wounded human world
From the stronghold
March 29/02
In this brief rest
In this brief rest
An anointment of sunlight through leaves
In this late hour
Late for animals
Late for humans….
Wolves of memory
In the half light of dawn….
Something has passed
And will no longer follow us….
Though it’s sound will live with us forever….
Its same hawk
circling in its hymn of light….
The raven texts….a day poem
19march20
Sitting at dusk
Sitting at dusk by the stilled leaves….
A rivered sound in the passing clouds….
Slow now the arriving winds
That have known us….
Out of it stories of aged lights and movement
Crescendoing now in the small breath beside me….
Its long journey made of sinew
Of cedar
Smoke….
Of life….
From the stronghold
10/March/20
The future walks among us…
Where we fall in the dew of shadowless beings
Where we taste evil and blood and know our silence
Is its mother….
Where we lie down in fear of sleeping our eyes transfixed
On a wind of blowing dust and skin…..
The future walks among us….
Where we hear the muted prayers of a vanished child at
The gates that
open toward nothing….
Where we hold one another in the dying parts
Of ourselves…
Where we waken in dawns aflame
And feel the stick figures
On the ancient walls watching us….
The future walks among us….
Bologna
30jan2020
In the rain just now
In the rain just now
Before dawn….
The smallest stones filled with moonlight
Dim their lamps….
Each morning
The same singing
Hangs from the trees where the owls sleep….
Soft songs melting through the leaves
The fragile leaves….
Hidden among the death masks….
The still open hands holding
A wind…
Over which a nightmare I have dreamt all my life
Is sounding….
The songs
Foggia italy
29jan2020
Rain misting on the inside of a broken bell
Rain misting on the inside of a
Broken bell….
Wolf tracks leading us out of our fear…
A bruised light in the waterless jars….
We traverse…
You in your coat made of
Trembling feathers….
For the raven that awoke me….
11/26/19
Rainfall…
Rainfall….
Where light has lain with the floating leaves
These spirited ones sit in bundles of air….
Juku….
Jukumari….
Winds scented of the saliva of spirits…
For those resisting …
In the streets of la Paz…
Deep mystery and strength in the
Veins of the Aymara….
Warrior fires flickering in
the mountains….
For Evo Morales
Aymara leader
Juku…..owl
Jukumari…bear
Aymara language
11.18.19
Adagio
Silent here
Our words written in dream
Chrysalis of what is here….
Scented of rain
Scented of our waking….
Wounded….
As the moth
Spinning in circles…..
On our window ledge….
11.11.19
Bologna
The first time I saw sunny
The first time I saw sunny
She was dancing in a Tijuana bar
To procol harums another shade of pale
The borders we crossed
Along the Mexican peninsula
Across the illegal plains
Saved me from my floundering self
Her beautiful smile as she danced ankle deep in the luminous
Ocean night….
Smuggling books into East Germany
Under the Berlin Wall
Later in a ghost filled room I made a prayer
For the lost….
And they went home
And the wall fell down….
10/13/19
