arrows across sky
soul fabric fully intact
abducted breath freed
peace haiku
American Indians in LA
wombs of my mountains
wind you know where i am alive and unforgotten time and i walk through the valleys and canyons made by trinity God Spirit and the son of woman wind you know how my throat wails in melody somber prayer joyous praise to you the wind that batters me uprooting my seedlings pulling sacrifices from the wombs of my mountains wind after birth soother cleansing sin away your breeze sister gentle cool draped in the blue of sky anoints the lips of the child with psalms and holy noise if only she could remember to return home
our picket signs for St. Peter
infinite is the same color gray
stones upturned not a smile they bring
the bulbs of spring red will be
blessed are her feet
they carry a soul to heaven’s gates
wings await to offer flight
descend your faith into our light
on the corners where the orphans fade
a glance will do from eyes of gold
our picket signs with prophecies
adorned
will see the blooming of a brave new world
grace
she who with her face brings all
with her heart will heal our Mother
and nurture Her soul
historian
i have seen the morning crash the back of the night running away from the future
i have witnessed shopping carts on fire devouring the food of my seeds
i have seen men lie to men as they’re life has lost it’s worth
i have witnessed a spirit come but in the opposite of peace pulling the sun and pushing the moon from me
birth right haiku
leaf fallen dead drops
agonies at last far gone
green leaves now your fate
the trees
to
the top
we walk fast
ancient keepers of this
land where no one knew
the truth
of what
would
befall
us
Dzunuk’wa’s companion
she green gold black red
mighty swift so small is she
her wings sing out loud
few places i get to fly where nectar is plenty at dawn beyond the fog at the foot of the hills trumpets of flowers are hard to find have flown a mile industrial towers are where my forest is buried reduced to beg to borrow instead from flowers not wild that came from soulless bottomless mills Dzunuk’wa’s ornate companion was i teacher of the happy psyche freedom lover wild as thunder yet gentle like spring rain on tender ferns the vines of my Creator sky have turned to hardened wires criss crossing dividing my stars my wings fearless beating like the heart that dies so that new hearts burst out in glee through out the meadow floors of our collective imagination
eating my words xvi
urban meadow blues
meadows i see on the packages in the lady business aisle of my regular supermarket
when i was young and high living the downtown life meadows were tucked twixt the words of John Fante
on crowded freeways i imagine meadows green with polka dot flowers instead of beer bottles and trash
i too have stood on meadows ignoring reality when news and accounts have been grim
on the meadows of my mind while i stand in line waiting for my time with the speed ticket money taker i swear i have been a Hopi princess
meadows in the park constructed from repurposed everything that underserves the very point of wild God created freeform and bear in mind your parking meter too
words less spoken 