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

Awakening

Awakening…..
From a twilight dream
of open eyes in a dark room

Watching….

Hope an emaciated silhouette standing in a burning forest….

Recurrent….

Our seized breath….

Guardians of an emptiness we cannot remember….
We cannot forget….

From the stronghold
Bologna Italy
10/10/18

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the river sings

The river sings….as always
As all rivers….
The ones who nurture it…

It remembers you

In its flowing canticles of joy
It carries the grief of all who suffer for it

You who have bathed in it
Anointed now by its one prayer for you….

It flows for the ones who have no voice….

Their silence eternal…

Healing the broken shadows of man….

For the water protectors of standing rock

25 November 16

I burn silver sundance sage

I burn silver sundance sage….I burn red homeland cedar….
I send the ashes..

                              From a feathered tip

Toward the massacred

                                              Who are everywhere…..  

From the stronghold

June15 16

Cultivating the Silence of a Hungarian

Snowstorm….
The first few flakes cascading
As small messages over the garden…

Having shapeshifted out of an Italian sky

From a swirling wind of tumultuous joy
The acidity of America still strong I’m my senses….

Now in this quiet
Of winter

Transformations of sorrow and frozen rain
Passing through the window glass
To sit with me….

Shivadom maheo neh nameho….

On the frozen plains
Of Oklahoma….

28 November 2015
Gabors smoking room

“Creator pity my beloved”