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Embrace your shame
as life pastes recognition to your eyes
with whatever strength the moon is food,
one more petitioner of unlimited blood.
What hooks are unfastened in unstable eyes
licking poetry from the floor of your tormented mother!
What time the wind blew is no longer ashes.
Her cold creeping fistful of hair
hurts you more than the neighborhood kids
who dishonored you so long ago
yet, changing the locks while they're gone,
they come back banging on the mountains.
Please deposit a quarter
for another three minutes of weather.
You look good in those eyes, confined to hope,
and remember this
as a handful of collision cradles your head,
the helmet law does not apply
to pedestrians.



By Mike Welch, 1998

morning rolls snake eyes on the grass
the world spilled through her flesh
it's hard to stop a train
a hand full of moon from the neck down
too thin for the cold, too thick for the heat
welcome to freedom, these are the rules
the outcome of chance
and other acts of devotion
driven by hunger
anywhere near distant
unworthy of her pleasure
or the shackles on her feet
too much ennui in her eye
a middle child alone in the crowd
never taunt the hunted, never look away
another unsanitary smile
deep breath fading to blue
a brisk beating so I may be left free to dance
and sign my name in chalk
as I leap from the bridge
and enter her thus
with nothing to bear but false witness
a new day, a short piece of time
another installment on the loan of life
only to be returned by six
to the hand that smells like a fist
thanking God for the stunning blow
we are about to receive

(is coming undone)

by D. Milne, 1993

Come and ride along the living waterways rafting
Come to the sparkled green fast, flying and flowing
Curving rolls rushing you to revisited waiting new places
More than a river ride, this is a destined voyage going
Above to the skies where you can distinctly hear
Whispering Spirit singing sweetly in shaky summer trees
And below in cold waters, your soul waits and is knowing
That Indian hearts were here before and here now
Whispering Spirit watches for you and clearly sees
Hidden thoughts from within are now plainly showing

Been always known as the Strong One
The Strong One will never give up
Understand how others look to you
Known by ALL as the Strong One
This is a story told, One that is true
The Strong One is coming undone
The Strong One is coming undone
Finally Indian hearts, Love is coming
Finally love is coming unto you
This is a story told. One that is true

Driving home on the same tired scattered streets
You have known that there must be a change
So many times you have dared dream the dream
Of one more chance, a grant to rearrange
Misty time that does not know how to rest
Everyday the people live and then they will die
Why are those nameless faces looking so strange
Reflected in glass buildings and crowded places
Does anyone have time to cry or care as they walk by
Names with no meaning, with one number, no exchange


by Lola Curtis

No matter
that you perceive life differently,
can separate the good from the bad,
and know what is in between,
for your insight of human behavior
sees flaws as well as greatness.

No matter
that your feelings splay out for
all the world to see, and only you
know their depths,
for your exaltations are as high as
your depressions are low.

No matter
that your world may not be mundane,
except as you attribute the ordinary
to others,
for as you see beauty in nature,
the others see dross.

No matter
for thanks to all of this you can create.
You are a writer!

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