poetry

mud people

mud people

Then there were the first humans, whose job it was to offer prayer, tell stories, and remember the passage of time. Made of the clay of this earth, the mud people of the first creation did not endure; when it rained, their bodies grew soft and dissolved.
– “Creations” from Dwellings by Linda Hogan

mud people
we soft squish
puddle and
wear away

tears run rivulets
into furrows into
cracks into
crumbles

we have no hard
to hang onto
no set stone spine

instead we bend bow sway
pray palms high
heart pressed low to
earth’s chest listening
to pulse and wave
pliant supplicants
consumed by awe

all we need
is to make:
prayer / tale
sound salve
time taste

and for you to please take
what our muddy palms
hold out open
trembling

poetry

taking our leave

taking our leave

Moon Creek
you gave us shelter
safety
refuge
wonder
magic
beauty
stillness
respite

all we can give you
is thanks

Hohou, Neyei3eibeihii*
may your waters flow clear
without ceasing
for innumerable moons

*Thank you, Teacher in Arapaho/Hinónoʼeitíít)

poetry

seascape

seascape

sometimes I want a bit of wind and wave
the rhythm of that white curl of crest
smell of battered wrack
the sting of salt and sand
air you feel and taste
pushing your limbs and locks
til you know you’re still embodied
your hair going matted by mist
just looking at the restless grey out there

tonight it’s come with purple puffs of cloud
twining beach pea in the small hump of dune
a skiff with orange sail racing the dark
and a beach I can’t find an end for

this is highly enjoyable
I whisper to myself
(a bit of an understatement)
& thank all the elements for
assembling themselves just so
yet again