Return (for my father)
April 12, 2018Over the terra cotta earth
your truck like a cleft-foot goat
grazes homeward.
The down of trees in the hills
Over the terra cotta earth
your truck like a cleft-foot goat
grazes homeward.
The down of trees in the hills
She rarely blew her cool and never ever swore, but—”Dammit! Hell!” The metal stirring spoon rebounded off the sink and took a bite out of the kitchen wall. The real Tracy Sequaptewa? She glared at…
My cousin Charles chomped down handfuls of the red honey suckle berries that my parents said were poison. And he didn’t die. No, sir—e. He grinned, the little seeds clinging to his gums, and said,…
I started drinking in high school. I love to push the limits, and hearing that something was prohibited enticed me to go after it. Being both devious and smart, I indulged in forbidden behavior without…
19 JANUARY: Belgrade must be the smoggiest of all cities. If you look closely, you can see farmers through the haze plowing fields between runways. President told us in Vienna that if it ever does…
“The satisfaction brought by morning dew
is more than human stomachs can endure,”
the men insist, hoping that they will die.
“The satisfaction brought by morning dew
While growing up on the Blackfoot Reservation near Gleichen, Alberta, Canada, I lived with my grandparents. On Sundays around noon, two well-dressed white men would drive up to our home. For some unknown reason, I…
I was in a school bus with fifty other adults headed down to Harlem. At the time, we didn’t know our destination. The invitation had read only, “April Fool’s Day Party.” Our host, the former bishop, was known for his generosity and love of good times, so the turnout had been high. The mysteriousness of the affair, combined with the capacity of a yellow school bus to bring out the fifth grader in anyone, succeeded in creating a festive atmosphere. There we were, all dressed up in our sacrament meeting clothes, giggling, flirting, talking too loud.
I have written this letter to you before
and I will write this letter to you again.
In it I tell you that the days are starkly blue
and unbearably warm, that the cooling storms
Dialogue 25.4 (Winter 1992): 113–131
Bibliography of African Americans role in the church from 1830-1990.