Threes Hour

I.

Right where it crosses Highway 87,
a man in a long coat
seemed to glide across River Drive North
stopping lines of traffic in my rearview mirror.
Tall and lean with a scruffy beard
and auburn hair peeking out from a hat,
he held a bow in one hand.
With his other hand
he plucked the string of his bow
while he strode up and onto the sidewalk.

Traffic continued and I considered the gentleman,
drove on home, and let him go.

II.

About an hour later,
on Smelter Avenue,
across from the Best Friends Animal Hospital,
I spied this odd little guy.
He wore green knee-length shorts
with suspenders over a heavy white shirt.
A green vest, and pointy green hat
topped off his ensemble.

A thick red beard spotted his chin.
At the NW Bypass intersection's red light,
I looked in the rearview mirror.
He was gone! He must be a leprechaun.
I turned to see he had merely crossed
to the other side of the street-
an odd little man, indeed.

III.

Heading south
on 38th Avenue North,
something dropped
over that white vinyl fence
on the east side of the road
and caught my eye.

A young man sporting a long coat with tails
and a short maroon top hat,
pedaled his bike down the curb
and into the oncoming lane—
empty except for him-
arms out--sitting tall.
A whistling jester weaving balance
back
and forth.

chewed thumb

Last night the dog was chewing on something. History tells me that Hopper eats things that no living creature should ever ingest. Hanging my arm down the side of my chair, I reached my thumb into his mouth to pull out whatever it was he was eating, and he started eating my thumb. I felt his tooth grind it. The pain was immediate and intense. I whacked the side of Hopper’s face with my other hand and startled him. The chewing stopped. “OW, OW, OW, OW, OW” I ran to the kitchen sink and ran cold water into the wound, and forced myself to look at it. A 3D W jagged in the tip of my thumb. The nail had a hole near its base on the side. It looked like Hopper almost pulled the top off it backward. I called Len and threw up. I don’t think Hopper had a clue that he hurt me. He kept chewing whatever it was he had, and likely ate it. My thumb will heal, but the nail might fall off first.

The moral of this story? Never put your thumb in a chewing dog’s mouth.

Medusa's Lament

My beauty
bedazzles
until serpents
anchored in my skull
twist,
twirl
and flick you
still.

Athena’s jealous wrath
cemented my fate.

Snakes eating snakes
rise up from my head
men start to turn
when they stop stone-dead.
All of their faces
swivel from me
from the horror of serpents
tongues forked before speech.

Woe I walk through statues
who no longer see.
Woe I look into empty eyes
turning from me.

And you wonder
that I feel at home
in lonely cemeteries
stone statuaries
cemeteries

Woe I walk through statues
who no longer see.
Woe I see the vacant eyes
that turn from me.

Athena’s jealous wrath
keeps me away from anyone
but me--

And I’m so angry
that I hold my head
inside my hands
and cry and cry and cry and cry!

Oh why? Oh why? Oh why? Oh why?

Perseus beheads Medusa…end of lament

What happened at Alcatraz?

taking what we want what we want what we want
we’re taking what we want while you sleep while you weep

surplus property occupied by a group of committed people
indigenous to these United States
defended on a treaty right to usurp unused federal land

 1868 Fort Laramie Treaty: The Holes and the Lies

Article 1.
“From this day forward all war between the parties
to this agreement shall for ever cease.
The government of the United States desires peace,
and its honor is hereby pledged to keep it.
The Indians desire peace,
and they now pledge their honor to maintain it.”

taking what we want what we want what we want
we’re taking what we want while you sleep while you weep

Article XI promised unlimited hunting on tracts of land
“so long as the buffalo may range thereon
in such numbers as to justify the chase”
the same land we will run a railroad through
which you will not oppose.
not oppose not
oppose
not

Upon its completion,
sharpshooters ride long iron serpents
down tracks of the promised land
decimating buffalo to end the charade.

taking what we want what we want what we want
we’re taking what we want while you sleep while you weep

Alcatraz Sits Empty

Article VII guarantees that
any male Indian over 18
improving land that “is not mineral land,
nor reserved by the United States
for special purposes
other than Indian occupation,
and who shall have made improvements thereon
of the value of two hundred dollars or more,
and continuously occupied the same as a homestead
for the term of three years,
shall be entitled to receive from the United States
a patent for one hundred and sixty
acres of land including his said improvements.”

The third occupation brought 80 Native people
from 20 different tribes
to said land.

Reinventing Alcatraz
as a worldwide outlet for indigenous art
soothing governmental responsibility
to native peoples, the Indians speak
of possibility lined with hope.

The United States of America seldom concedes.
Wounds fester what concessions could heal.

say we’ll do one thing
turn around and do another
execute plans created at the promise of beginning
kill the Indian kill the Indian

Trudell tells it this way:
two faces
one operates the left hand
two faces
one operates the right hand

differences deceit decimation

we called them Indian
we did not call them people

Alcatraz sits empty

something awful

Something awful in me rises
and with words constructs dark worlds.
My fingers front perversion in
the pieces that unfurl.

Something awful in me rises
with exhilarating zeal
it illuminates the underside
of living in the world.

Something awful in me rises
when a violent death is met
by a character the devil gives
infernos to repent

Something awful in me rises
when a whore’s the lullaby
that you whisper to your lover
underneath a starry sky.

Something awful in me rises
spilling into words on page.
Sartre led me to Bukowski
at such a tender age.

Timing

Is it because timing is everything
that I wind up feeling like nothing
when I completely miss the boat?