surviving mi familia during the holidaze

jeepers creeps how i miss them
my parents
my children
the aunties and uncles
my nephews and nieces
the ex-sister-in-laws
the 2nd cousin first removed
the ex-3rd cousin remarried
the 'they've been around my whole life
so they must be relatives'
& we even adopted a blonde
& a redhead
who are now off to college
the adopted ones
doing 'the best' from the
natural borns
says alot for genetics

& i missed them until
the 'drama' as the kids like to say
starts in
each room a different conversation
a different direction
and when you walk down the hall
you get side swiped
& by gossipy osmosis
information gets moved about
what was
a minute ago
is not
now

until a tension
an irritation sets in
& i just want them to take their presents
& go home
or i want to take my gift certificates
& go home
i don't want to be an orphan
or a hermit
forever
just right now
just until a peace can settle in
& i'll miss them again.

happy hour xmas shopping

trying to get a 'leg up' on
the impending holiday rush
decided to take a half day off
from work
drive the 72 miles from this
small town of cowboys & auto dealers
to the biggest little city of
malls & super K-marts
wearing good walking shoes
credit cards clutched firmly
lists of family & friends
& i'm off

clothes for the teen girls
skater pants for the boys
soaps, candles, & spa stuff
for co-workers
show tickets for old aunts
who have enough clutter
ankle bracelets for son's girlfriends
a pretty good roll for 5 hours
then to take a break with friends
happy hour
5 to 6:30
a chardonnay buzz
then a plunge into the malls
big mistake
bags later
driving home by midnight
next morning assessing
the stupid presents wine bought
'rudolph the red-nosed reindeer' boxer shorts
with battery powered light up nose
strategically placed
chocolate champagne truffles
a hot pink sweater trimmed in
hot pink feathers (not machine washable)
a diamond ring shaped
like a horse shoe
& those were
all for me!
screw everybody else
i deserve a treat
i'm my own best santa claus!
just leave the spiked eggnog
next to the cookies
& no telling what i'll put
in your stocking.

(this is actually a reprint from 2000)

ratty bathrobe

ratty bathrobe so far after one year
of being in each other’s life
I have his toothbrush
and now his ratty bathrobe
it’s just very sweet

little things like that
symbolize the comfort
tentative
like bambi’s mother
taking him to the meadow
for the first time
we won’t bother
to mention how
that ends

next
I’ll make drawer space.

--snake

learning curve

we talk about
our sleep patterns
since we are not
together
but want to know
how we are apart
both wake around
3:15...i put mine off
until 3:20 cause i know
there's this whole
poetic movement
of waking at 3:15
rolling to your notepad
and jotting whatever
is present
like it's pure
we both wake
telling ourselves
we get to keep sleeping
3 hours
4 hours
2 hours
1/2 hour
15 minutes
sharing dreams
unremembered
wishing we had more
of each other
intruding into our dream space
intruding into bed space
night after night.

5 things

yes shannon said i'd blog 5 things so here it is:
5 restaurants i like:
1. montrio, in monterey
2. miramar beach, in halfmoon bay
3. the crustacean, in san francisco
4. geronimo, in santa fe
5. tommy's joint, in san francisco
oh and the vendor stand at hardly strictly bluegrass festival that sold
beer battered garlic french fries topped with garlic aoili and dungeness crab!
i don't like chain restaurants.

5 things i did yesterday:
1. went to saver's to buy a red coat for santa crawl
2. went to joann's to buy fabric and trim
3. made chicken and dumplings for mishon, jesse, and killian
4. began work on santa coat
5. went to bed my usual 10 pm

5 pet peeves:
1. people that leave their turn signal on and stay in the same lane blinking along
2. bureaucratic delays..waiting for signatures to authorize stuff
3. clerks that bad mouth fellow employees, gossiping in front of customers
4. my doorman that rarely gets off his butt to actually open the door
5. too many websites to belong to, too many mixed up passwords and user ids.

5 things i love:
1. my family
2. my friends
3. k.k.
4. art
5. my life

5 things to do tomorrow
1. go to work
2. work on santa coat
3. vacumm up the furry mess on carpet
4. find boxes for mishon's move
5. check out computer sites that are blocked at work.

momma weed, flower child

momma weed, flower child
--for richard
in the garden of life
the weeds strangle the flowers
the veggies
unless somebody is vigilant
the moment you turn your back
the weeds run rampant
sucking the nutrients intended
for you
the gentle one bringing pleasure

fuck that botany 101
there was cross pollination
your momma was a weed
your father unknown
perhaps some great sunflower
whose seeds birds gobbled greedily
shitting out whole
fertilized in foreign ground
your weed momma close at hand
sucking the nutrients
telling you you were a weed too
she raised you to be a weed
thorny ugly messing with others lives
until god with the great 'round-up'
the great weed-eater in the sky
descended
you watched her wither
while you began to bloom
her leaves shrink
& allow the sun to shine
on you
for you to begin blooming

bloom
despite any doubts
bloom
because you can
just because we have to call them
mother father sister brother
doesn't make them good
that we are obligated to love
you can be out from under her
good for you
good for you
let the rain be your tears
let them help you grow
it's okay to smile at her death.

obama

Sunbeams

We’ve entered a new day
Where sunbeams bypass
Dark clouds
Deciding to surpass
Rainbows
By illuminating fear
And racism
And bringing a calm
Assurance of a new deal
For our future
Mark this new day
As bright as a chunk of gold
Proceed
in a new direction
with a new president
the world watches.

we did it!

i'm so thrilled...i keep crying with joy.
a friend and fellow poet, richard vargas said something about going out and buying an american flag because for the first time he is proud of this country. i feel much the same way.

reading Sept 18, grass valley, Ca

Purchase tickets at the door:
$5 general, seniors and students
$1 for those under 18. Refreshments included.



Thursday, September 18
The Nevada County Poetry Series presents
nila northSun & Terryl Wheat
7:30PM, $5 general, seniors and students
$1 for those under 18
Refreshments and open-mic included.
The Nevada County Poetry Series continues its tenth year of celebrating poetry by presenting the poets nila northsun and Terryl Wheat. These two writers remind us of what it is for a modern woman to confront the challenges, demands and accepted standards of a world in remission. Bill Gainer says, "northsun and Wheat remind us of the power in saying no to the statuesque, they do it daily – in their work, their art, their lives..."

nila northSun, of Shoshone-Chippewa descent, is the daughter of renowned Native American activist, Adam Fortunate Eagle – one of the more prominent figures in the 1969-1971 Indian takeover of Alcatraz. She is identified with the Native American Renaissance of the 1970s and 1980s; her poem "moving camp too far" remains a sentinel work of the period. northSun has published four volumes of poetry, love at gunpoint; a snake in her mouth; Small Bones, Little Eyes; and Diet Pepsi and Nacho Cheese; and authored After the Drying Up of the Water: A Tribal History, a history of the Paiute-Shoshone tribe. She lives on the Stillwater Indian Reservation in Fallon, Nevada, where she works as a grant writer. nila recently received the Sierra Arts Foundation Literary Award 2008 for her contribution in poetry. Her poems bridge family history and traditional tribal identity with the challenges of being a contemporary American woman.

Terryl Wheat remembers first writing at age twelve. She says, “At fourteen or fifteen I attended my first open-mic and was hopelessly hooked. There was nothing anyone could have done. No amount of math, science or history could have saved me, the poems had me!” Moving to midtown Sacramento brought Terryl to Luna's Cafe where, as she says, “I met many wise old cats that became priceless mentors. Without them I fear what I would be writing now – the thought is unnerving.” For Terryl, it’s not only the poetry, but the learning experiences and characters met along the way. Outside of poetry Terryl climbs rocks and on occasion, after a healthy dose of spirits – maybe a midtown building, she does the trendy yoga thing, plays with kitty cats, likes candle lit dinners, long walks on the beach, is a Leo and open minded. Terryl says. “I have successfully dropped out of City College three times – with the intentions of doing so again...”

Tickets can be purchased at the door for $5 general, seniors and students, and $1 for those under 18. Refreshments and open-mic included. The show will be in Off Center Stage (the Black Box theater, enter from Richardson Street) at the Center for the Arts, 314 W. Main St., Grass Valley, CA. For more information call (530) 432-8196 or (530) 274-8384.


314 West Main Street Grass Valley, California 95945 530 271 7000

golly

I’m falling
Deeper
In love with a man
That says ‘golly’
And blushes
Making his blue eyes
Effervesce
When I approach him
With one nipple exposed

My heart turns
Cartwheels
When he proffers
A dusty seat
Next to him
In his battle lounge
As the minions salute

It doesn’t matter
That I feel faint
From the beating sun
Working in desert storms
I want to be strong
i would do anything
For him
Prove me worthy
Of his love

I’m falling
Deeper
Inevitably
Toward doom
But loving every
Nanosecond.

-snake

ho-sehs run

the grandson
sometimes has 'r's
sometimes doesn't
his 3 word story
told one word at a time
breathlessly
ho-sehs (horses)
run
bite
as he retells the terrifying scene
next door there are 10 horses
wild mustangs 'adopted'
the dominant male corraled
while the females and
new foals roam
the 1 acre around a
small cabin
the owner is not home
a new stallion is allowed free
which aggravates the
corraled one
til he leaps his fences
and they fight
he draws blood
then chases the other horses
round and round they race
kicking up clouds of dust
we hear the thundering hooves
and stand on the deck
they are kicking and biting
screaming horse screams
blood on mare's hindquarters
blood on new stallions neck
around and around they race
what to do what to do?
afraid they will kill each other
we call 911
a half hour later when a cop
patrols by
the horses are just standing
exhausted
he keeps going
and they take off again
and we go indoors

grandson is left with his
3 word story
ho-sehs run bite.

burning man poems# 2

Her walk had lost its bounce
Replaced by a limp
Having stubbed her toe
On a piece of buried rebar
Way out on the playa
Clouds of dust
Added to her thirst
A brackish film coating
Her tongue
She had prepared
Months in advance
Lists for self-sufficiency
But now
No water at hand
Finding a cracker
In her pocket instead
‘I’m thirsty dammit
not hungry!’
the little irony made
her giggle
and she gimped her way
to the lights of terminal city.

i have an interview and review in lumox journal

If you wouldn't mind, please mention this on your blog:

The third issue of the Lummox Journal is now online. I contains two interviews with Nila NorthSun and Patricia Wellingham-Jones, two very diverse poets I might add. Also there are two articles on small press publishing, sort of a past & future look at what is going on; Passion & Danger by Christopher Harter (detailing the Mimeograph and it's place in early small press activities) and Amazon and the POD Wars by W.J. Higginson and Raindog. There are two reviews by John Yamrus and RD of Todd Moore's RELENTLESS and TELL THE CORPSE A STORY & Nila NorthSun's LOVE AT GUNPOINT. A batch of poetry from the likes of Lyn lifshin, A. D. Winans, Marie Lecrivain, Scott Wannberg and others; and a new feature...a "cooking" section of all things, has Athens, GA poet and Chef H. Lamar Thomas grilling up some mouth-watering burger recipes, Southern style! Check it out by going to www.lummoxpress.com and clicking on the LJ 3 picture.

--
Raindog
Word Smith
Get the Raindog Reader (4 books) - A hot beef injection for your soul!
www.lummoxpress.com
www.myspace.com/poetraindog/
http://raindog-theviewfromdownhere.blogspot.com/

burningman panic

panic time

it's that time again
the annual burningman panic
usually occuring a month
to several weeks in advance
the wake up in the middle
of the night
going over lists
packing lists
where did i put
last year's stuff?
what costumes
need to be made?
i don't remember where
i put the solar shower
and where did the rebar go?
what food do i still have to make
and freeze?
how can i fit it all in the car?
what things still need to be bought
and how can i do it with
hardly any money?
fitful sleeps
but right now
the self imposed projects
create more anxiety
than exuberant excitement

i can't imagine how people
with major art projects
or camps handle it
the payoff of a good project
or camp not realized until
actually there
and when it's over
and glitches were minimal

gotta give mega cudos
to those people
you people are amazing.

tourista

a chortle rolled out
from the darkened room
followed by the smell
of chipotle chicken
it was enough to intrigue him
enough to make him brave
despite the obvious carnage
of bird feathers and bird claws
by the side of the small adobe building
his mouth watered
anticipating a cold corona
in the roadside cantina
the noise of children playing
relaxed him as he entered
picking a bench near a rough table
the waitress approached him
with a smile
what would you like?
chicken please
with soup or salad?
soup please
and a cerveza por favor
then she was gone
sunlight cut oblique patterns
in the cool shadows
a couple holding hands across
their table
a family with squirming kids
absorbing the posters and colorful rugs
pinned to the walls
he took a deep easy breath.

memory tag

Tag! Here's the drill (This one's kind of interesting...)
1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.

i want to go somewhere

3 days off
I don’t want to sit at home
I would only end up
picking weeds
& watching old movies
in the heat of the day

I want to fill up the gas tank
damn the cost
And go somewhere
To greenness
And water
Preferably with a tent
But I know most
Campgrounds
Are filled

I don’t care about the
Fireworks
I care that I have time
And health
And choices

my friends all seem to be
staying at home
working on projects
& others are camping in
the desert
I’d rather pick weeds
& watch old movies at home
than camp in 100 degree heat

But having
Somebody to do things with
Would be nice
I have a full tank
A lead foot
& an empty passenger seat

any takers?

what makes their eyes go dead?

you always hear how their eyes
were black holes
as they committed some
atrocity
like the man
who just stomped his
2 year old to death
killing him way past dead
last weekend in california
or the woman who
drove a knife repeatedly into
her aging father's back
or even my cousin
as he held his young wife's
shot gurgling body down
so it could bleed out
while family and cops
stood in horror
and we saw black holes
dead eyes in his face
he didn't even look like my cousin
some zombie stranger instead
just like the father killing his
baby son
people holler
people grab at them
they don't hear
their black eyes don't see
they just do what they do
as if possessed

where is the chemistry in this?
somebody tell me
there is an explaination
and don't tell me about the devil
tell me how
the 'normal' person
suddenly does these things?
the good neighbor
the good co-worker
the good child
don't tell me about the devil
but i do believe
their soul is gone
how did that happen?
what ate it up?
and can we make it stop doing that?

the big question

he said it’s our
1 year anniversary
and I remember
meeting in the forest
camping with friends
under starlit skies
and music filled air
outrageous drunken behavior
his willingness to be
as stupid as me
ahh…yeah
there’s something there

and now we sit
temporarily civilized
eating escargot and lobster
in a fine Italian restaurant
holding hands across the
linen tablecloth
his maniacal grin
still charms me

back at my place
he drop his head
wiggles a big toe in the carpet
looks at me shyly and says
I have a question

I say let’s have it
He asks…may I
keep my toothbrush here?
As he waves a non-descript toothbrush
Soft bristle
In front of me
Like a 10 carat diamond ring
Ahhh…yeah
There’s something there

guilt & time

there’s always this lingering
sense of inadequacy
for most poets writers artists
there’s never enough time
to produce as much as we want
or if we stumble upon
unused time
if we don’t use it wisely
to leave a written legacy
to leave the art world a better place
the guilt creeps in
no not at the moment we chose
to waste time
to read a people or enquirer magazine
to watch america’s top model
or the girl’s next door
to take a nap before bedtime
but the next day
as we look at picture frames left empty
poetry manuscripts in an untouched pile
paint brushes and exercise machines
gathering dust
that creepy little guilt
that is small enough to get run over
the next time we indulge ourselves
in the pleasure of nothingness
only the guilty would call it
laziness.


--snake

apokiliptika

Apokiliptika—a tribute to kernul killbuck

At day’s end
The world ends
Overseen by the overseer
The despot of the desert
Whose authoritarian command
Is a visual menace
Toxic fluids course thru
His veins
Toxic material
In his brain
And arsenal of weaponry
At his trigger happy fingertips
The brainwashed peons
Subjugated by pabst
Blue ribbon and chested medals
Comprise a regime
Of cultural delusion
Bellowing ‘freedoom’ to all
As the kernul hoists his booted feet
Atop dead fidel’s casket
And steals the cigar from the
Deadman’s lips
Licking the dried saliva
So as to retrieve castro’s dna
to mingle with his own
his maniacal mind
a tactical genius
ready to throw off his clothes
run naked into combat
into the blinding dust storms
thereby confusing the enemy
and all are the enemy
insulting them with oven mitt slaps
Doomsday hastened
In the end
No trace of humanity
Not even a limp fire canon.

robots

men and women creating
not human child
but mechanical offspring
anywhich way they want
with 5 legs 2 antennae
with blinky lights
and bouncey bounce
with recycled parts
highlighter markers
plastic bags
styrofoam carcasses
30 ft tall
or 3 inch small
kinetic energy
or forever unmoving
the parents stand proud
while visitors ohh and ahh
these children
do not disappoint
if they do
they can be disassembled
reformatted
born again
born this way
or that
the whir of their hearts.

potty training

had grandson with me last nite
his diaper rash creating an
agitated red scrotum
(oh, that sounds like the name
of a band)
so decided to start
potty training efforts
left his diaper off
so he could air out
and be cognizant of peeing
sat him on the potty chair
and said ‘pee’
he did not

but the little bugger peed 5 times
in 3 hours on my carpet
and shit once
luckily it wasn't diarrhea
again tried to get him to sit
on the potty
but nothing would happen
except one time
a little dribbled in the pot
most hit the floor
the rest of the time he at least
verbalized ‘peepee’ as he ran toward
the bathroom or as he stood there
with the stream soaking his foot

his pee stains graffiti my rug
running lines or small lakes
criss cross the living room
i wanted to with hold any beverage
but decided being dehydrated
did not constitute potty trained

I handed him diapered
back to his mother
knowing tomorrow
I’d buy a rug shampooer.

baby fingers

grandson is getting close
to the terrible twos
when i arrived
he just had on diapers
and he immediately wanted
to get dressed cause
he thought i was there
to pick him up
to see his great-grandparents
i know this cause
he said 'poppa'
i said no we're just going to
sit here and visit
he scowled and started to
pinch himself!!
he’s just a little baby
he’s still just saying ‘moo’ when
i ask what the cow says
and ‘meow’ when i ask
what the cat says
when i sing the itsy bitsy spider
his little fingers mimic mine
as they wiggle into the air
and now this devious twist
for his baby digits
the little bugger is
a budding self mutilator
his tiny little fingers taking
teensy little bits of arm flesh
and pinching
oh so sad to see
my little guy hurt himself
need to teach him
other ways of coping
i won't mention
gramma's suicide fantasies.

--snake

fire spinners

I used to stand in the dark shadows
Ankle deep in snow
And watched as the acrobatic
Balls of fire broke
the darkness
Humans controlling their own
Private fireworks
Moving comets around
Their heads
I’ve wanted to be a
Firedancer for a dozen years
But this is not something
You can do alone
By yourself in the country
Who would put you out
If you caught yourself on fire?
So I have moved to where
‘they’ are
I took my first class last night
They gave me two kneesocks
With tennis balls at the toe
To swing this way and that
While they used chains
Leather straps and charred
Wick balls
I swung my kneesocks
Proud to finally be among them
No longer off in the distance
One more thing
To cross off
The ‘bucket list’.

whipped cream and sushi

we planned a picnic
alongside the river
but the skies darkened
and the winds blew
instead we
spread the blanket on the floor
and opened the curtains wide
he brought the sushi
i brought the whipped cream.

i have a youtube

but i can't make it work for me, maybe you'll have better luck
htt://www.youtube.com/watch?=yCrJwXkPBmw

dirt sandwiches

we are to go camping
in the desert
watch weather reports
cold fronts and warm fronts
kick up wind storms
dust storms

all the tender little morsels
packed in zip lock bags
in tupperware bowls
as much pre-cooked as possible

bacon a necessity
for any camping
though chorizo and eggs
wrapped in a tortilla
muy yummy

taking plenty of water
this is the nevada desert
after all

i'm concocting a new drink
'the oasis'
some blue alcohol
in a fishbowl
though i couldn't find
just the right fish
so i settled for rubber duckies
that bling bling when their bottoms
hit the water

we'll be a 100 miles from nowhere
not a soul in site
he'll probably be naked
he likes to do that
i'll probably wear costumes
i like to do that

we'll sit on lawn chairs
surveying the vast horizons
of our shared vision
talking smart stuff
and stupid stuff too
eating dirt sandwiches.

a wonderful day

i'm having a wonderful day
was supposed to go to jury duty
it got cancelled
& as i already had
a day off
took it
decided to organize
my small apartment
i keep dragging stuff in
like it's a 4 bedroom ranch house
but it's maybe 500 sq feet
so i have to go up
up the walls
with shelves and storage bins
it feel goods to organize

i treated myself to
a banana split for breakfast

i repotted seedlings

i invited my kids to dinner
made everything from scratch

i watched an interview of
sandra cisneros
one of my very favorite authors

it's only 3 o'clock
i wonder what other wonderful
things will happen?

an interview

after my sacramento reading
b.l. kennedy asked
if he could interview me
for a series he's doing
for rattlesnake press
sure my ego said

sitting in his cozy living room
i scarfing down sweetrolls and danishes
we begin
he clicks on the tape recorder
and says
let's start at the beginning
so even though it could have started
with my birth
i had to preface it
with historical influences
my parents
reservation life
government policies

dad, a chippewa, taken to an indian boarding school
when he was 6
and forbidden his culture
mom, a shoshone, raised on the rez
with 11 sisters
raising turkeys and vegetables
the depression not touching them

how government policies
were pushing indians off the rez
into boarding schools
to acculturate them
into the great american melting pot
the american dream
dad grew up with that
bought it

and they both ended up going to
haskell indian school
in lawrence kansas
a great american indian melting pot
jeez. let's just throw hundreds of
19, 20, 21 year old young men and women
from reservations across the nation
and watch them 'hook up'
navajo with sioux
yakima with comanche
chumash with iraquois
shoshone with chippewa
a good way to make sure
the language is lost
they couldn't talk to one another
except in english
the death of languages

and the government had a policy
of relocation
get the indians off the rez
and move them to the cities
for employment
mom and dad came to san francisco

i was born
in schurz, nevada
so i could be born 'free'
mom came back to her rez
to wait at gramma's
then they drove the 40 miles
to the indian health service hospital
like most indians over 30 years old
from nevada
ask us
we're all born in schurz

so that is how it starts
that is how i start
shaped by government inteventions
& my parent's buy in of the great
american dream

at one point
we even had a cadillac
now we're all back
on the reservation
with dreams of language lost
soured by government policies
and high mortality rates
where are our warriors now?

defend the 'snake'!!!

A preface…I post poetry under the name ‘snake’ on some on-line poetry sites…like ‘the poet’s place’ and the camaraderie is such that people I have never met still care about ‘me’ and my work enough to defend me against somebody doing a kind critique of my poem “divorce travails’. I’d post the critique, but I’d rather post the defense:

“OK...I just wanted to say ( hi snake) that snake is
snake and I want her to stay snake. There are styles and
there are styles and who we are is what makes us
different and snake comes from a place that she made and
she shares all to honestly sometimes ( and I love that)
a very interesting and tough short stick draw.
I do think the piece is a bit floppy in places but then
I know that here it will get nailed to keep its shape
(like a buffalo skin) and she may take it back if it is
still close to her favorite colors and textures. My
snake is a volatile fire breathing native american woman
and just that puts her at the head of the line for me.
Form again, sigh, and form again. We are water trying to
make our own shape but we never sit for it very long. I
think...Good exchange here. But leggo of my snake!
please. :-)

braz”

culture worker

remembering the past
full off my people's
warriors
whose bodies withered
before other men's
diseases
vaccinations withheld
until just a few remained
but we survived
adapted
our new tribal clinic
is state of the art
we have a well-baby clinic
baby shots recorded
reminders sent out
we believe in our culture's
ability to change in order
to survive
no more smoke signals
we have internet
and cell phones
yet we still have
the highest infant mortality rates.

divorce travails

it seems like each time
i do it
it would get easier
actually the first 3 were 'easy'
after trying to resolve stuff
emotionally
the wrongs the rights
the making of lists
which eventually tip the balance
in favor of splitting
getting out was always such a relief
even leaving this last one
was an immense weight off my
beaten down shoulders
even got a good title for
the poetry book
love at gunpoint
but the actual divorce process
the he said (big f-in' liar)
she said (gawd's honest truth)
was so strung out as to
enrich the pockets of the attorney
and neither him or i
really benefitted in the end
what i said in the beginning
was fair
and was how it ended
but it took $25,000 in atty's fee
to come to that conclusion
NEXT TIME
hahahaha
next time everything
will be in writing
it tickles me that i would
even consider a next time
but i'm an optimist
and hopelessly romantic
and i might add
a little stupid.

there are smart people

whose brains curl into themselves
into whole universes we will
never know
but then
it could be said
for crazy people too
unlike poets
who spill our guts
and brain matter out there
for anybody to digest.

diabetes

as a native american
i'm already pre-disposed
then looking at their checklist
i'm all of that too
*overweight
particularly around waist
*physically inactive
hey! i've been sick
i broke my toe
i....i....have many excuses
*family member with diabetes
my mother and aunties
*gave birth to a baby weighing
more that 9 lbs
i guess the first one at 9lb 14 oz
set the stage
*blood pressure 140/90 or higher
yeah yeah
*cholesterol levels
i guess that's why i take those pills

they say many people don't know
they have it until symptoms occur
i had no symptoms
just that checklist

it's ironic
i display only one cowboy boot
in my office
i joke that
i'm looking for a
one legged cowboy
i didn't realize
he'd be diabetic too.

shoshone aztec language reunion

the meeting draft
call to order
discuss information on webpage
registration forms & schedule of events
discuss workshops
language & cultural preservation
committe reports:
recording activities
must have prior approval
housing arrangements
best western has 66 rooms
fundraising
reno sparks helping
eastern shoshone too
letters of solicitation
youth activities
arts & crafts storytelling
camping fishing
food services
need food & paper product donations
eastern shoshone proivdine moose,
deer, elk
ft hall donating buffalo & potatoes
cultural demonstrations
each state will have 2 hrs
for giveaways and demos
nevada, wyoming, idaho,
oklahoma
conference materials such as t-shirts, posters
logo from poster featured
fashion show
will also have displays
transportation
comanches bringing a bus
veterans
tribal flags & a sweatlodge
teepee race& hand drum contest
purchasing 8 teepees
giveaways/raffles
donations needed
language programs
shoshone family words needed
games
archer & others
drum groups
wyoming & idaho
sunrise ceremonies
wyo, okla, & idaho in charge of sunrise
camping
pow wow grounds
fish & game providing fire wood
hot springs
sweat nearby
tours
museum will coordinate
vendors
away from speakers
no fee
dialysis
windriver diallysis center has
13 chairs so make arrangements
adjourn.

a found poem so sad at the end.

the best april fool

was when i had my 6 year old daughter
come running into
my married man's bedroom
where i lay snuggled next
to his cheating heart
her rushed and breathless says
there's a woman at the door
that says she is his wife
and he turns white and jumps
sky high
taking the sheets with him
his heart visibly pounding
as we laugh and say
april fool
we did not last
much longer.

mountain man rendezvous

multihued capotes
grease blackened leggings
soiled oversized cotton shirts
the black powder and campfire smoke
makes the cloth its own
white is no longer white
not on teeth spittin' chew
or fingernails scraping food
from wooden bowls
their weather beaten hands
pass whiskey flasks
by campfire flames
voices getting louder
as the night grows cold
and the whiskey flasks empty
laughter roils through the trees
and one by one they stagger off
to buffalo robed tents
and ash covered wool blankets
nary woman in sight
to warm their old chapped hides
and the still night is broken
by the chorus of snores
occassional footprints stumble
into the brush to either puke or piss

the dawn brings bacon.

if you blog in the forest

and nobody hears
are you really blogging
or are you doing the same ol' thing
of writing in your spiral notebook
which you leave
hidden under your bed
willing to be written
and perhaps discovered
either while you are alive
or when 'they' clean out
your personal effects
oh
so that's what was on
his/her mind.

what i like about you

everything
i like to watch you
i like to see your facial movements
your smile lines
your animated expressions
your drop dead gorgeous smile

i like to watch you
in the morninng
see how you walk
admire your tallness
and secure body movements
your hands when they make
breakfast
the way you choose your
clothes and how you're not afraid
of color or designs
and they way they drape
on your strong frame
you could wear a hefty bag
and look glorious

i like to watch you
in the evening
as you flick back your
long hair
or lean forward to
stir the coals and blow it
into flame
or pass the bottle of whiskey
from one friendly hand to another
your joyous face illuminated by campfire

i like to hear you
your voice resonant and rich
like maple dripping from a tree
you don't have to shout
you are heard
because people and me
want to hear your words
your stupid jokes
your teachings
your anecdotes
you say nothing mean or gossipy about others
and people know then
they are also safe
to be goofy or obnoxious
you pass no judgements

i watch you in a crowd
and see how everybody respects you
because in part
you treat everybody respectfully

you are a very good man
and i'm so thankful to have you
in my life.

xoxox nila

post-nasal drip

this is kind of a mixture 'found poem' with
my own asides

post-nasal drip (PND) occurs
when excessive mucus is
produced by the sinuses
the excess mucus accumulates
in the throat or
back of nose
based on the following symptoms
i know full well
this is what i have
swallowing...constantly
particularly noticeable at night
when i attempt to push on my throat
to diminish the largeness
of my gulping
i'm surprised i dont have black and blue marks
from the effort
tickling in the throat
more like a toothpick jammed
in my esophogus
chronic sore throat
i've tried hot salt water gargles
to no avail
also tea with lemon
and the myriad of over the counter
drugs and even a few prescription ones
bad breath
oh great i didn't even check to see if
that were one of my symptons
fortunately i virtually talk to nobody
coughing
i could have started this 'poem' with
persistant coughing
but thought post nasal drip had
a more literary ring to it
feeling nauseated due to accumulation
of mucus in stomach
which then causes me to
vomit due to excessive mucus
in stomach
there's nothing like running down
the hallway at work
with a mouthful of puke
trying to make it to the bathroom

i now even eat food based what
i'm willing to puke up
eating artichokes for dinner last nite
was a mistake
apparently they don't digest easily
and my now converted bathroom waste basket
has turned into my bedside puke bucket
attests to the fact that just mucus
is not the only thing puked up

another side effect of the constant coughing
beside irritating co-workers
is the incontinence
piss cough piss cough

i'm sharing this personal experience in case
there are others out there suffering from the
same malady
you are not alone
i fully commiserate
wherever you are
just make sure you wear
a pad if you sit on any of my chairs.

whiteman rendezvous

i've never been a part of one
i've seen them on the sides of roads
near parks and campgrounds
whitemen dressed up like old timey
mountain men from the mid 1850's
muzzleloaders and trappers
women folk in long dresses and aprons
canvas lean to's and tents
it looks like fun
kind of like going to a pow wow far away
where you have to camp
tipis and friends
i imagine it to be like that
and we always 'allowed' white people
to visit
not tourists wandering by
but white people who were friends
i hope 'they' will allow this indian
to visit
i'll dress the part
so as not to be mistaken for tourist
but i will also take my camera.

i haven't been writing much poetry lately

and because want to be able to comment on my newborn grandbaby's blog, i had to sign up for google blogs.
and now that i have a blog, i shall use it as an excuse to write more.
but who in the heck reads this?
comment if you do come across this so i know i'm not shooting blanks into nowhere land.
well actually, it's okay if i am, because that's so much of what poets do.
keep their little journals of angst and share with no one.
it's actually rare that poems ever find human eye.
with that said here goes my first/second blog will be poem.
nila northSun