January 2009

First week in office

focus riding on others,

taking a sea trip out of country.


So, the rhetoric was real,

so the words mean something.


What is brewing,

what we are drinking-

a mix of brimstone-

(Careful where I go.)

and sulfur.



Yes,  cloven and clear.



Learning a language,
my translation sucks
changing Dine’ to people
when it means other words

typical white finding hard meanings
to soft maleable nouny words.

How dare I take a language
sweet in syndrone and heart
and drag it into a hard field
where I plant my trees-
It won’t grow – really
I can bid it,
I can break out the vowels
into parts
and classes-
it won’t fit.
and I’m an idiot to try.


On the new year,
I’m wondering where winter sleeps,
certainly not in my backyard
where the leaves remain sleepy brown,
grasses bid me to wake up soon,
waking up soon.

Sure, winter wakes here
by the calendar – at least
but my eyes lie to me,
and my heart tests the metal
of the season.


I’m working on a novel. I will be back to write more. Please consider my book “Where the Fence Line Runs” on Amazon.com. Thanks!


Hey folks,
I apologize for being absent. I’ve been working on a novel and it’s taking alot of time. Please don’t give up on me. I’ll post some new poetry very soon.


Hey Guys, I was wondering if anyone could offer a reference to a list of strong verbs for writing. I found some on the web and some general guidelines – However, if there is a book, that would be helpful.


Hey, the new Book “Where the Fence Line runs” is out and available on Amazon.com. It’s available as soft cover and e-book (For Kindle!) Check it out!!!!


She stood at the tent,
this young maiden
dressed in flowers
freshly picked,
for his return,

War is a sharp din
how can I hear it?
How can I pick him out
in the blood letting?
The sound of stallion hoofs
that black stallion
back to level ground,
where war is gone,
where tents are fixed
my fire is here,
oh yes burning all night!

Miranova: Novel in 2009

Then he said,
I wish to carry on
not interupting my living-
his fair maiden behind him,
his rows of skin hanging,
Let me have peace
and not war
fishing and not
for I desire the sound
of waters over the clash
of sword and shield
falling into each other-
the smell of the sea
Not of death
spread thin
over a battle field.

Then the maiden
whispered in his ear
and he smiled,
smiled that smile

I’ll receive no help
I’ll see no hands
He’d rather fish
these waters
than touch the
face of war.

MiraNova: Novel out in 2009

“My Father used to sing them to me,
as he cut his axe handle
and my mother taught them,
as she fashioned arrows,
and I the child on the floor
heard the deep mysteries
and lacked the words.
As a child in the pastures,
with the honey flowers
those sweet buttercups
I waited for the brave tales
for the tree-top phrases they brought!

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