Wakinyans, 10-30-1994

walk the night sky
to the north.
Their passing
rustles the trees,
the scent of rain teases-
a soft promise of
sensuous rhythmic songs.

already dance in the far west.
Sparks of energy
flash as the rattles
and feathers of the ancient ones
touch the edges of the earth.

Welcome! Wakinyans!
I want to dance with the rain spirits.
I want to dance in the rain.


Funeral of Sammy Dye, 9-11-2001

Driving from Copperas Cove to Abilene, Texas.

driving to the funeral of a friend
dead, too young, from cancer
A friend I hadn’t seen
in 30 years, nearly—
Spring like
reports on the radio
like “Martian Invasion”
by Orson Welles.

“Terrorists use planes as guided missiles!”

lines at gas stations
traffic-less roads
churches and gathering places
packed—on a Tuesday
family and friends gathered
in homes—looking
like shell shocked block parties
but, mass wakes
for innocent countrymen

no planes
no trains
no buses

English Lesson

Dictionary page word

244 sun-dappled: having spots
113 #3 bushland: wild land
948 thrusting: push or shove with force
933 tawny: brownish-yellowish

The dew on the winter grasses of the bushland glimmered like tawny amber in the first rays of the sunrise.
New sprouts of green grass thrust up beside the roots of last year’s dried grasses. Puffs of dancing clouds pranced before the light of the new day. The plains became a sun-dappled paradise.

Momma Friday Nights

Friday nights I used to go “out”.
Get dressed up, turn heads.

Now I’m a mom, Lani’s mom.
This Friday I’m selling
Girl Scout Cookies at Winn Dixie.

Get dressed, go out, turn heads?

Now I’m a mom, Trent’s mom.
Last Friday I went to bed
with a pile of picture books
and a clean, little, snuggle bunny.

Fem Fatale no more.

Now I’m a mom, Ian’s mom.
I look up to him and we argue about haircuts.
He wants one, and I love his curls.

Some Fridays we order pizza
and watch rented movies
a jumble of arms and legs
in, on and around the couch.

Love handles and thunder thighs.

Now that I’m a mom
and a new grand-mom (Welcome! Thomas)
I’m frumpy-dumpy
more cuddley comfortable
More T&A than a killer-red-dress type.

Friday nights I used to go “Out!”
Get dressed up and turn heads.

Since I’ve been a mom, Friday nights are sweeter.
Moms get tender peanut-butter kisses.
Moms get lovey-snuggle-hugs.
Moms get original art work for their refrigerators.

Momma Friday nights sure beat the heck
out of tight jeans and red high-heeled cowboy boots.

After 9-11, A Prayer for America

Faces of America
strong in their belief
of our kinship
drawn together in
a collective sadness
remembering the lost
who died doing their
daily business
as usual
faces, languages of all
shapes and colors,
more than a blending
of the world
human beings who
believe in the right
to be free and live
the best life they can
Americans born into
the ultimate responsibility
the privilege
of living in peace
Christian, Muslim, Jew,
Sikh, Buddhist
all faiths
all colors
in a rainbow
of love and acceptance
we’ve shown our children
and the spirits of the
Americans who preserved
freedom before us
That we are worthy of their hope and trust.