Meta I, II and III

52847359afe74d269a0d617c79949d5c

Meta I

When we dig deeply into thinking,
Crack through the shell
Burrow into the meat,
We reward ourselves.
A pat on the back
But don’t stop there.
Go deeper
Up to your armpits,
And when you are ready
Take a breath
Move back
Take in the view
With a macro-lens:
What’s thinking on thinking?
Go broad
Go wide
Go meta
Can you trace
the outlines:
Meta of meta?
Poem 20

Meta II
We scholars cast
Wide nets,
meta search
but metta search
Seems best
Poem 21

Meta III
Words mean
And meta yields the
Package,
The whole package.
What a good word
For anagrams

Like
Meat and mate and team and tame
Maybe atom
If you break the rules
Poem 22

#30poemsin30days

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian | Leave a comment

Garden Fever

atg_jan10_woodcut-of-bee-balm

When I have spare moments

I bike to our local garden store

Thick with greenery and

Tchotchkes made of brass and glass,

Ornaments molded overseas

To make your garden festive

Like Christmas

 

And walk aisle after aisle

Coveting the swooning cherry tree

The gray-green olive

(What color is that in Crayon talk?)

 

My hand skims the ground covers

Packed tight in their plastic shells

They overflow

Swinging their elbows over the rims.

Soft,

They feel like cotton on my palm

 

I float past the grasses,

Salvias and Clivias,

Locked in my thoughts

When my foot scrapes a metal box that

Juts in my path

Tearing my skin

 

I pour water from my bottle

Onto the cut

Cold and cold again

And limp to the daisies

The welt swells with blood

And I ask a gardener if she has a band-aid

So I don’t bleed on the concrete

 

She runs to the first aid kit

Brings back two plasters

And asks if there is anything,

Anything more she can do

 

They will cover the box

So no one else trips

And she

Thanks me for being a good sport

 

I try to be a good sport

Calm and Buddha-like

It’s not her fault

It is what it is

What it is.

#30poemsin30days

#Poem19

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian, garden fever, gardening | 1 Comment

Wahkon-Tah Haiku

 

orange tea cup

I pour tea into

An orange cup, so petite

For Wahkon-Tah, so big

#30poemsin3days

#poem18

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian | 1 Comment

30 Poems in 30 Days

spider

Osage spider

My weekend poems took shape on the train ride to Seattle and return, and while we soaked up the sunshine in outdoor cafes, I tried to keep up with the 30 poems in 30 days promise.

Poem 15

Safe

Weekend crowds,

Families with children,

Grandparents,

Lovers and friends

Greet the unexpected sunny afternoon

And find ice cream.

A father scoops his toddler into his arms

Where she lands softly

Safe in his embrace.

Remember how complete

And whole you felt

Tucked into your father’s arms

And no matter how scary the world

You gave in

Body and soul.

Utterly.

 

Poem 16

Iktomi

Black thing

Curled inside the

Tiny cup on the shower floor.

I dump out the water.

Poor thing

Lifeless

A relative

No doubt

From another time and place

Forgive me.

 

Poem 17

Some Kind of Cherokee

Once

Barb and I went to a sweat

In Georgia.

Women and men.

We wore long dark dresses

For propriety’s sake

And cooked like

Frankfurters

In the steam and heat

Of the backyard tent.

And the guide

Some Cherokee dude

Who talked and talked

And talked some more

Made me wonder

What kind of an Indian are you

Who yaks with no end?

Some kind of Cherokee I’ll bet.

 

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian, authenticity, Iktomi, native american, native press, Native Science, Osage, poetry | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Tastes like home

mint pic

Sometimes I buy tinned mints

For travel or boredom

They remind me of youthful years in England

Where we would pass by the sweets shop

On our way home from the train

And pop in for a gander

At the rows of candies

Especially the mints in their

Strong, stronger, strongest

Glass jars.

Sugar-powdered mints

We could buy

By the handful,

Bite down on the wafer

For a mouthful of hot, sweet

Flavor

That reminds me of England,

Reminds me of home.

Poem 14

#30poemsin30days

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian | Leave a comment

The Boycott Bandwagon

BarbaraKruger-Your-body-is-a-battleground-1989

Art by Barbara Kruger

When Bruce Refuses We Listen

In refusing to perform a concert in Durham, Bruce Springsteen is using age-old techniques to hit where it hurts: in the pocketbook.

When news that North Carolina legislators approved a law that enables discrimination of folks who are gay or transgender, performers, politicians and proprietors jumped on the boycott bandwagon.

Paypal, Deutsche Bank, and several other businesses have taken action to curtail their operations in North Carolina, according to this weeks’ Atlantic.

Springsteen takes a page from Saul Alinsky and Martin Luther King Jr., using soft protest with an economic punch to make a point. Continue reading

Posted in american indian, family values, health, health insurance, journalism, race | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Can’t you?

 

koan

Poem 13

Can a koan be yours

If you steal it?

The teacher said to think about the koan

“Form is emptiness”

But the teacher gave it to someone else

And now I want it

For my own

Can’t you own a koan?

If a koan is form

And form is emptiness

Can’t you own

Can’t you

Can’t

Can…

#30poemsin30days

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in american indian | 2 Comments

Poem 12

jessebrown-charlotte-nc-mountain-khakisEverything I want

Everything I want is right here

Right here

On the glossy pages

Of the magazine

Where you can buy

Collared shirts,

Hiking trousers,

Socks,

Caps,

Shoes,

Belts,

Bags.

 

I can become this outfitted man

Tanned and muscled.

Climbing mountains,

Tickling his pooch,

Roasting marshmallows

Driving a truck

Against a pink sunset,

Blue mountains,

Pristine forests.

 

I look up from the pages

And there’s my honey,

Who smiles at me from across the table

And says,

I have everything I need.

 

#30poemsin30days

 

Image from http://jessebrowns.com/brands/mountain-khakis/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in american indian | Leave a comment

Poem 11

Get Real

Poised with a dripping pen,

Lying in wait for the misstep

One mistake

And you’re toast.

 

Run for office?

Vent your voice?

Public shaming looms large.

 

You’re called a racist

Sexist

Misogynist

Misanthrope

Ageist

Conformist.

 

Colored People’s time?

Only if you’re colored.

Call someone a bitch?

Only if you’re female.

Call out a queer?

Only if you own it.

 

Rules turn muddy

And we wait to spring

From the shadows

At the gaffe

That proves we are better

We are better

I am better

Than you.

#30poemsin30days

Posted in american indian | 2 Comments

Poem #10

Ah! To be Whole!

Don’t be fooled

At the free speech ploy,

It’s an advertisement

Through and through.

Fresh breath,

Smoking pleasure,

Water that sparkles,

All designed to lift your spirits

and sell your soul.

Your very self

Hangs in the balance

Between pleasure and fulfillment.

For just a few dollars

You too can be whole.

#30poemsin30days

 

Posted in american indian | Leave a comment