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kind of equinox-ical center of the sun-ish

10 Jul

It was sitting on my shelf. I don’t remember why I picked it up again. The Surrounded by D’Arcy McNickle. If someone asked me what it was about, I’d probably say something like….

“a Native American caught between assimilation city life and return to the traditional ways.”

But that would be just to fill dead space because other than the title and the author I don’t remember much or I remember nothing, not even the author. I looked at the cover as I wrote the name down. But some pages are curled (those little triangles) to mark an important point and there are underlines in pencil so I musta read it.

The book’s binding is loose so when I opened it, I turned to the biggest opening. I turned to page 107. My eyes jumped to the middle of the page and

“……Do people change overnight? Have you ever known boy, man, or woman to get up one morning and from then on be a new person?”

“But who has done that?”

“Well, isn’t it that way with Archilde? Suddenly he is interested in music, he works for me, he is willing to study. How is it? He wasn’t that way before.”

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mahshkesaneeee wind

26 Jun

there were times, not that long ago times, when stewart and sarah and ron and sandy sat around playing instruments and songs came to them from who knows where and they never wrote those songs down and where did those songs go?

the reset button

24 Jun

i sit and watch a self destructive thought enter my head space and have no rocket launchers to make it disappear; even words don’t help; only the wind-ruach-breath-inhale in through my nostrils and exhale out my nostrils does function me yes i feel better.

on endangered languages, but the good news is…..

6 Jun

I read somewhere about a strange surge in dialects, strange since languages are apparently going extinct.

I have a theory.

As more and more people grow their own weed and tomatoes and maybe keep a goat grazing in the backyard, eat local organic produce and what not, they value what’s around them, the quickie marts and evergreen trees, taxi drivers and homeless people, local bars and well, dialects stay strong, new ones emerge.

Maybe I could get a 20,000 dollar grant from the local university to do some research on this topic. I could quit my job and visit and meet all these local gems, absorb them, become my own guinea pig experiment and get paid doing it.

fur coat

2 Dec

there are no more leaves on trees.
fluffy days are gone.
branches scrape the sky like finger nails across heaven

ends

1 Dec

leaves crunch like confetti under my feet
another season blowing away

the switchman

28 May

i sit in the bathtub,
not too often,
but the next time i do,
i will watch the water slither towards the drain and
remember that
water wears down everything and
it will do me too.
then after that,
i’ll exit the tub,
dry off,
and cut some vegetables in the nude.

painting by colorsetbrushes

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