Author and Poet
A poem from the new collection On Driftwood and Oblivion Shall we go now, for later it should be too hotEclipse the stars, traverse the moonsLeave all behind, take nothing but the plotUnder the watchful eyes of your baboons Your place setting awaits, a table …
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I once lived there, under the shade of those trees
Peaceful and happy, never hurting anyone or anything
Why do you say these vile and evil things about me?
You know not what you speak, or whom you speak it for
We do not have the means to wage war that you have
And so, we move like the wind, but neither here nor there
I hope you enjoyed the shade of the trees you took
No, I truly do. At least before you cut them all down
Read more in On Driftwood and Oblivion…
A poem from the collection On Driftwood and Oblivion Niobrara ripples, defying time’s marchThrough endless drops in clouds of grayLearned hunts on wings of restless eaglesDid those dust worn skins have no say?Standing Bear is a person is he not? Fire danced heartbeats upon dying …
Read MoreA poem from the collection On Driftwood and Oblivion Ghost Dance nerves for blackened steelSpotted Elk lay deadNo slow drum beat for each shotA mass grave instead. The Buffalo GhostEver roaming barren plainsLife’s endless outpost. Read more in the poetry collection On Driftwood and Oblivion
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In a steel guitar bearded dream
You came to me in the darkest night
In a vision within a vision supreme
Knighted are you before the fight
Ghost dancers turned back time
Of pale horsed riders with frosty faces
On warm blooded thoughts so sublime
Inhaled whispers left few traces
Underground railroads on the trail
Of a whipsawed chorus of children’s cries
On sterile neon moon rock hail
In the darting probes of quicksand eyes
East west feet trampled dustless roads
The great father peddling golden fraud
On horn rimmed dragon’s heavy loads
And endless gibberish of travels abroad
The buffalo’s now wistful moan
Trails the jet’s smoke trail blame
Books of wisdom now flesh and bone
A forced march ends into the flame
Whispers thunder still, Sand Creek winds whip true.
The horses gallop, as a sad refrain.
Maheo’s tears cried out a blood-soaked rain.
In peace, the U.S. flag and white flag flew.
This meant nothing to the devils in blue.
For Black Kettle, peace brought a heavy pain.
Whispers thunder still,
Children heard crying, in the morning dew.
Oh, senseless massacre of such disdain.
How does humanity escape the brain?
Though the wailing and bloodshed are long through,
Whispers thunder still.
A poem from the collection On Driftwood and Oblivion The small one spoke truthThe small one was seen no morePeace forever gone Read more in the poetry collection On Driftwood and Oblivion
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Moon glow clouds
Do not know
The insignificance I feel
Standing before the stars
At the midnight hour of my discontent
Then too, however
I gaze and I think
One never knows
We were the Green True Deal
You were the blight upon the earth
Ever marching with a vicious zeal
We knew the running water’s worth
We roamed as the harmonious earth turned
At one with the Eagle and Buffalo
You brought thunder as villages burned
And a trail of tears watched the land go
We spoke of peace among the tribes
With eloquence and wisdom’s tongue
You split the tongue with lies of scribes
The ink flowing from your fingers stung
We desired no blood to stain the ground so pure
But purity never once landed upon the shore
We know not what will bring your final cure
But, the songs of Ten Bears are no more
Inside life’s zoo, is the catch-22, of a horse now glue,
Losing sight of what’s true, in the great deep blue,
And the turn of the screw, can you give me a clue?
And, so it goes
Tomorrow, today, both in the way,
When the brain turns to clay, someone must pay,
For the mental lay, if you’re not Ray, or you’re not allowed to say
And, so it goes
You lose sight, of what’s true at first light,
But something’s not right, in the heat of the night,
With the mind’s kite, maybe wound too tight, in the afternoon’s delight
And, so it goes
Listen for the boom, if you see the mushroom,
Quick leave the room, erase the chalkboard of gloom,
Experience a joyful doom, come out of the tomb, and enter the womb
And, so it goes