Sorrow is no longer a word

Sorrow is no longer a word….as sadness….
as loss….

They are no longer words
If you are brown……if you are the
Other….they have not been words for us
For a long time….
They exist with us….

Fear is a word to us….
It marks the path of our enemies….

They fear….
They are not like us…we can smell their dead souls….
Their empty shadows….


Dog soldier song
For El Paso

Dreams crossing a field of yellow flowers

Dreams crossing a field of yellow flowers
Names falling out of them as they pass…

Where the footprints of migrants…

Are etched in dried mud of human misery….

Between each word sung or spoken….
Screamed or begging….

A sacredness resounds
In the minuscule….

It’s rounded motion….

Speaking in its spirit voice….

Toward our inward yearning….

Lesina, Italy
Where the immigres toil in 100 degree temperatures
Picking tomatoes.



The child within us must awaken….
          Little shadow…..

Your smile the darkness under a leaf….
                       Color of your lovely eyes…..

We bring our prayers to release you from hunger
And fear….

We take your soft breath within ours…
                                             As the river weeps….

Your arm around your father…

For Oscar Alberto Martinez 
For Angie Valeria 

26 Jun 2019

For our mothers

Soft rain embraces the flowers with its silence
Night rings its ancient bells after
The lightening strikes….

All around light that has hidden in clouds
Opens its eyes….

Looking for you….

For our mothers
Bologna Italy
12 May 19

In the rain just now

In the rain just now
Before dusk…

The smallest stones on the shoreline light their lamps….

Every morning the same songs unsung
Hang from the trees where the owls sleep….

Soft songs melting through the leaves

The fragile leaves….

Hiding among the death masks
The still open hands….

Over which a song I have dreamt all my life

Is sounding….

The songs
Foggia italy
April 27.19

silence is heavy

Silence is heavy
As it carries all its loved ones

Ones whose silence lives in the water
Ones whose voices begin and continue in a language
We have yet to learn

It sings in the between breath of the newborn

It weeps with the hearted ones whose prayer is the dawn

And the last breath of a child and the last breath of a
Mother and the last breath of a soldier
is followed by silence

We see our silence
Not as we knew it
And we wish to return to it

Though we are too changed….

From the dead zone texts
Poem number five

17 December 2016




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


From the dead zone hymnal
Vanishing in the void 

Shadowless in our breathing

eyes closed as we listen to the

Vacant as rainless sky

Blood on the pale stones





For Berta Caceres

A river has no name..the sound it knows of wind
And moonlight..
It’s singing self..
It’s long memory
Bereft of longing..
Full of human invasion
Human crossings
Animal crossings..

Rests in its essential movements..

Shaman know..

It is possible for a river
To sing inside a soul..

It is you..

For berta caceres

From the stronghold
5 March 2016IMG_0094