Mom

Mom

Here in this quietude….

There is your voice
                Whispering from a remembered place…
Smiling from the distances that separate fear from joy….

Agony from aloneness….

Your cigarette smoke forming ancestral light….

                    That embraces calm
                                                 In a world lost….

To itself….

Foggia ghetto 
February 23.19

Dawn disguised as sorrow

Dawn disguised as sorrow 
Stands before the wintered plain

A wolf track fills with snow….

Crow lands….
Shaking its shimmering being
From the solitude of flight….

Winter
                  Winter

The badger watching….

Mahago domiutz ehiwoh
(Walking badger said this)
January 10,19
Bologna Italy

Waking to a yellow poisonous sky in Paris

Waking to a yellow poisonous sky in Paris

A dark kitten purrs softly on my hotel window ledge….

I cross the early empty streets toward a taxi….

Heavy fog at gateway

Small rabbits running across the tarmac….

In the airport lounge in San Francisco hours later

Sipping an old crow and seven…..

Later in a rainstorm in a phone booth

I light a cigar….

Drifting toward a waking dream….

A white field of broken skulls in Yemen

The only darkness the holes….

Where their eyes were…

Lines from a revisited image

Bologna 1.11.19

What has arrived out of this silence

What has arrived out of this silence
Secretly kept….silence of tears…

Silence of years….

The one who has slept to waken to the shining you
Left behind….

A shining so pure so alone….
Standing now by an ancient road
Made of blood and stone….

This glass dream that sounds of rain falling….

This dim recognition
Where emptiness folds itself into everything…

The sacred

Watching from a distance….

Edges 
November 18,18

Sweat Lodge Song

Eyo haugo…
Ema koeed….
Shards of burnt spirit light all around….

Pieces of grey fur caught on the stacked wood

Old ones have passed here….

‘It is raining hard’
‘It is a strong wind’

Emaome ehmin
Sweat lodge song

For peter and Lynn.
October 30, 18

Beware

My grandmother whispered to me in a dream….
Beware the white cities…the ones filled with hatred and fear
The ones where the ones who can see are
Imprisoned by the blind….

The ones who live from the dead meat of others…
Devouring their eyes that are staring at them….

The ones who have arrived from the putrid underbelly
Of human waste….

Formed from the shit of their ancestral darkness…
Carrying the heads of their dead gods
As tokens of their devotion…

Eating the white plate of their deities
Forced upon her as a child..

She looked at me whispering

beware….

The white cities.

Tricase italy

For minimic,tsistsistas
Rena cook,cheyenne
August 7.18

In the Andes above Medellin

Why have I awakened here
With the watches of the dead scattered like eyes
On the floor….

Somethings that are left of me
Have found their way here

Where I am kneeling….
Praying for you….

Along this rain soaked columbian road

Where singing arrives out of the darkened trees
Small wrens

sitting among the tears
Of the missing….

Drying on the frosted leaves….

In the Andes above Medellin
8/3/18