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Bulging Bubble

Earth was formed like a bubble
blown from hoop

breath of Creator
kissing the Universe
into orbs of connected bubbles;
the world, a water balloon
with reflected floatsum
surging with the gentle exhale

soft roil of boil
emits millions of round songs
of round-eyed lakes
blinking through seasons
that round the corner one after another
like liquid lava light, heated

we swim in spittle of a great god’s
gentle exhale, and a blue bird
notes the shape of sorrow
for a hole in its nest

and a breast-stroking man
pries the swirling waves away from him
choking on black fumes
he, himself, has made

He draws his breath back in
and we are sucked back up
into the lung of heaven

Never Again To Feign Faith

Sky and clouds tempted my faith with dry mouthed chicanery 
and patriarchal undertows in rivers of gospels and rough rock altars
waited for a reluctant Moses’ to come and set them straight. 
Religion is a zymotic yeasty substance replicating itself.
Does mile-high buffalo skulls explain my xenophobia?

When they thought to exorcise this inexplicable truth from me,
a rough handed oaf, pulled me to the tasteless wafer
near their crossed altars, with bright light varnish reflecting
off them, I knew I was a selfish wraith, feigning an innocence,
and admitted that I stumbled there in error.  My papillon faith
flew out the leaded window to land on the hand of an elder
who handed me a quotient of miracles;  those illusive horse-hoof
moments of rataplan that drum so quietly, in these moments
of moonray toric triangle, sacred beyond the sweet call of the owl. 
I know the scant starlight pulses truth that only belongs to me.

The fatal flaw of ignorance was pillared in the gnosis of power
that attempted to erase the face of my grandmother in knotty pine
and kill the lichen tight curls I needed to run my fingers through.
The anemic faces that forced fate down my throat were masqueraded
in four square limp-bodied bother with what they saw as my iconoclastic
guides:  The sun that loves me and bestows shadow to shelter me,
even the lady slipper with its jigger of sweet nectar as my sacrament,
they eschew.  My moon and midnight diverged and I was in a silent
slush of darkest hour  after kissing the lip of sunset that would not divulge
the hyperbole between knowing and not knowing who is the necromancer:
Is it witchy or divine.  I wish it to be both, the sunrise and the yoke that drags
a new day behind me.  Just I, and nature in me and nature without me,
know hymns before words and songs without music, and music without voice.
I need nothing but sky and air and earth and fire…Never again will I feign faith.

Morning’s Kiss

The bowl of earth swells up to be kissed Universe
and lips of God come close to craggy cheek
to whisper long-drawn desires –
A parent’s pathos loving an ill-behaving child
sent to bed without dinner, rising with sun’s light
of new forgiveness; another chance to resurrect
a well-mannered intention waking slowly
from a night’s weep in the dark –

Denim Dream Protection

There are words in your eyes, and love lens that reads them
scrolling our sky, grandfather, taking in the breath of trees
and exhaling stories that spread out over the world
like colorful songs, like hum and strum of a western guitar
brought up on Country music of the fifties… and drums.
Your cowboy hat keeps the shade on your brow
and blue jeans sit better on rough stones these days
when your diamond willow cane lends you lift up and drop down
of bones bathed in a thousand thousand streams carrying tears
of many spirit keepers who have watched our people stumble
through barbed wires fences while on their quests.

It’s not hard to know a pretender from the passionate.
You have no time, old man, for red hawk talk on borrowed crystals
as if keeping a stagnant stone without polishing its spirit
gives the holder any power.  A blade of grass tucked in the side
of your mouth means more.  If it does not hang
in the skin of a brother, over the heart, at the throat of a voice
of a man, or woman, and is listened too, it is of no use to anyone.
It can not whisper secrets it needs to whisper, uncradled
in the cavern womb of sweat or ceremony.  Those who tell you,
stranger, foe; we never know, without seeing first, you pour sweat
from the pain of cedar splash, is offering feasts to pigs in the barnyard.
This you told me, while I sat at your knee and learned shape-shifting
for disguise’s sake so the panderer would not prosper from ancient stories.
Only a tribeless man or woman would gather contestants of spirit.
You, grandfather, are a tribe of your own, but we come to you,
not you to us, nor did you send for us to gather friends, like followers
to make you feel important in your powerlessness.  I know you, Old Man,
by the spirit that called me; ancient spirit, one that was not written
for other bands and other lands but for me.  For me, you speak bear
language, red willow words, phrases medicine of my own people.

Come, Ageless One, tell me the true secret, that is not for the hopeless
nor given in snake oil packaging with New Age psychobabble. 
I need the truth your hand draws in the air, and the words drawn
in on sacred breath of the pipe and the herbs humming in the fire pit.
Tell me in spirit-voices, how came you to me, with Love
that is spirit help, not self-help.  I am a child at your denim knees
wading into the dream you speak of so passionately.  Protect me
from the likes of those who would confound me for their own prosperity.
 

 

Occupation

They meant to make their name with unction’s
righteous rituals done wrong.  Dr. Dolittle’
Do-Right Cure” with little background
in much more than mash and berries.

Indians are much easier to handle, drunk,
they thought, but then they did not take
into consideration the anger that one swig
could make monsters of.  “Drink up
and be healed!” It said on the label.

Sucked into narrow neck of the nectar,
sharp buzz on tongue  made men famous
as their buckboard bounced across the prairie
like a Mexican flea invited yellow fevered
eyes, and bleeding guts, crazed thoughts
scrambling out of the way of iron-rimmed
wheels, spokes made of the red man’s bones
placed into a non-sacred circle of sacrilege.

How easily they made their fortune.
How easily we lost ourselves in the swill
of gut-rot libations.  They made labels
out of redskin’s demise and put their tintype
copies in bellies as testament to frontier success.

There was a little bottle on back entry shelf
at my grandmother’s old house.  We found it
when they knocked the walls down to build
a shelter for the homeless.  My brothers
peel back cement to bobble their way to Salvation.
Yellowed paper flakes off in my hands
and lands on unfortunate occupied ground.