Archive for the ‘politics love’ Category

i used to say i didn’t care how much pain i was in, in this lifetime, as long as i did not have to be reborn.

question:      suffering = enlightenment

answer: yes ___  no ___  maybe ____

this time is bad enough, the next time will be much worse.
but now with things changing so fast, it is like being re-born into a newer more horrible era without the dying in between. maybe hte collective sorrow and helplessness is a form of death. will the gulf ever recover? what has my driving wrought?

i had a dream that there were many people going into the gulf with old empty tomato cans, filling them with oil, selling them to a refinery.  BP had to pay for it, a few pennies a pint. there were any old containers and people out on the shore, gathering as if plants, or in dingy’s as if fishing, filling up every can, bucket and pot and turning it in for a quarter each. in this dream there was no other food and no other work. for miles along the gulf throngs of people there were so incensed, horrified, that they wanted to do something, alongside others who were hungry and wanted to make a little spare change.

so we dare to recycle our cans, dream our dreams, live with/within wild and be better than we are now, tomorrow.


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decades ago, my friend Rena made traditional woven robes,baskets, and sang her Spirit songs, in the years when the Indian Act declared such practices illegal.

have you lived under such a law, that tells you it is better to buy than to make things the way your grandmother had?  i just wondered.

the state, the church, at this time, in this place, discouraged all Native art, craft, language, practice.  those who continued in the radical act, of Making, kept alive all we have now, the ancient practices in the modern world.

i am weaving, i am praying, i am Making because i believe in the power of Nature and the return of the viridian forest.

the place where i work

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Love (fiercely, honestly) healthy soil and clean water.

dirt, insects, animals, birds; these the modern Saints,  suffocated in oil, poisoned with gas, paved over, limbs torn apart in the martyrs wheel of ‘progress’ .

Love, unashamedly, hang on.

the good war.

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biscuit carpentry joints

dandelion pinecone

stamped wood

cheesy onion biscuit dinner

calorie dense dreamers

. sailor boy pilot bread

. army rations, empires

. kingdoms and covered wagons

dog treats

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landfill full

landfill full,

graveyard grave.

four dozen  polyester roses with plastic thorns left in a brittle office paper box on a loading bay, the one the morgue uses for the missing feet, with a card, ‘happy valentines day, 2008’.

they were a gift from someone who found them when he was smoking, although the doctor told him to stop or he would die.  one year ago he had liver failure, skin the color of fluorescent paint.  i said it was a miracle, he said the doctor simply made a mistake, and he has a scar that covers half his midsection.

i live in my studio.

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pine cone, biscuits

analine dyes, coffee

dandelion, wood

work, food.

chrysanthemum snow

peony medicine

fireweed honey

i am tasty

look here i am a snack or a loaf of bread

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treading water in a whirlpool of trash the size of texas

twenty thousand albatross carcasses, stomachs filled with plastic bottle caps

were they satiated when they died of starvation

did they thirst and did they dream

… red round small fish screw tops

… turpentine oil water

i am swimming, treading water, backstroke

an ocean filled  with broken 2 x 4, sharp empty cans

thrown by ocean surges, bitten flesh broken arm

swimming, moonlight, dawn

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