Hunger Lounge: from 30/30 2019

in tame, cemented days like these ensconced in automated ease ah, what a gift again to see hunger, lounging in a tree all tawny bright, not quite replete yet not so fraught as seeking meat would make this golden beast ah, what a gift of joy to dream of your, instead of siren’s scream your…

The Ballad of Banaabekwe and Her Gulls

What diplomacy today can bring to the rescue mice fit to chew through plastic nooses carelessly left to wind around the bleeding necks and throats of sea elephants? You don’t hear that fable, now, do you? – Don Perkins 1. Banaabekwe, at her loom of seagrass slowly, in dappled morning sun, weaves stories for her…

Day 30: Because Blossoms

did i mention i came to the city suspicious? after all every indian of a certain age (yes, indian, to frame this) knows that cities eat indians. of course, there’s the trick. i am anishinabekwe, lnuskw also, and polish by matrilineage. i came looking for some fabled southland that sang to me in dreams all…

Day 29: Spiritual Dissonance

is this cognitive dissonance? listening to Elder recount the ancient agreements, while reading the bombing of another Medecins Sans Frontiers hospital. is this even possible? Elder, to gather our teachings to gather back to our clear and gentle roots to be curious, creative, kind, and stand against the tide of plain, cowardly evil. to live, and…

Day 27: Bee Count

to discern the flow, the way that land likes to be what grows where, what light brings joy, what soil what drainage. all this, and counting bees fills spring days. five kinds this morning: lady bumble with her pockets full, honeybee sweat bee, fly bee; we bend astonished closer to nonchalant antics of one small chestnut…

Day 26: Blessing Song

when i first came to the city, my fear rode on my back cities don’t love indians.  but i didn’t know better than to walk everywhere, because i could. and i began to admit there was life all around me, from the first crack of dandelion leaves up in march, through the stubborn winter song…

Day 25: Smoothing the Spirit

old houses hold on. the first day i saw this house i knew it was my home, knew its many windows. its east facing door was the first thing i painted. upstairs, early on, we removed that beige broadloom peculiar to quick flips. such old wood in some rooms refinished, but under the carpet, a ruin, old…

Day 23: Billie, Under the Moon

how do ceremonies work? what magic might be proper, i do not know, except that once, billie asked her aunties for advice about her heartache. billie on the cusp of nineteen, the moon something near full and trailing up into the opening in the sky, velvet shadows cast in heavy island grass. the quiz came from…

Day 19:Steady

it’s something you draw down from the stars so that you, too, become a cord tying earth into heaven.  

Day 21: Rain

i don’t cry for celebrities. they don’t know me. i don’t know them. i don’t want autographs. pay tribute by raising my own voice, however limited. but prince. rampant, pure fire. burn better and brighter grow deeper, higher, brighter if your work did its work. i didn’t know you. you didn’t know me. but there…

Day 22: Giovanni Caboto’s Trees

this morning’s sun, still pentecostal waters new leaves in broad crowned elms adorned, crowns within crowns with magpie nests, wind-riding as my spring-daft hounds cavort i see again the crowd that day our city, post-millennial, had hired an american urban expert to tell us what to need, now that we’d turned that corner into accepting,…

Day 18: Sakura

Sakura, Yayoi no sora wa… suddenly, this morning, the nanking cherry threw open her curled fists cards on the table, this is the hand given gambling on a full house.