BLACK HILLS OF DAKOTA
The red man mines his life for irony
while the white man tears the earth for iron
But treaties protect the sacred stones
as long as rivers flow and grass grow
Paper covers rock
in the Black Hills of Dakota
Gold in the Black Hills, end of treaty
Scissors cut paper
in the Black Hills of Dakota
But sacred stones outlive them all
Rock breaks scissors
in the Black Hills of Dakota
THE HANGED MAN
White hands red
with the blood of eighty
million red men dead
With a soul
that’s been through a Sioux or two
Upside down on a tarot card
hanging between the worlds
A DEBBIE MOMENT
I was noticing again the other day
watching a movie, strangely enough
called “Remains of the Day”
that even though you died
you haven’t gone away
In the movie
a bird gets trapped in the house
and tries to fly
through the high ceiling glass
Remember the time in the office in Austin
when the sparrow was trying in panic to
escape in this way
You spoke to it in your stardust voice
and it landed in trust in your hand
I remember the windows you flew against
and your trust so light in my hands
And it’s a comfort to see
you and the sparrow
both flying free
THOUGHTS
ON
A DEBBIE MOMENT
Debbie, a great friend of mine, died too young
and in too much pain in Houston about five
years ago now
This moment just sneaked up on me
earlier this year
Can’t help wondering how many people
are having Debbie moments now in New
York and around the world from what
happened just six weeks ago
How many people in the world in the last
five years having Debbie moments from
a hole blown in their sky
OLD WAYS OF WAR
(or time to be looking up)
Still wrapping themselves in tanks
old warriors fighting wars on the ground
Like Saddamm and the Taliban soon found
when others struck from the air
the safety just wasn’t there
As armour that they thought would save
became a target and a grave
Still wrapping themselves in flags
Government no longer of, for, or by the people
Like Saddam and the Taliban now find
when others strike from anywhere
the safety just isn’t there
As the land of the free and home of brave
becomes a target and a grave
LET’S NOT SING THAT OLD SONG AGAIN
Home home on the (firing) range
where the Bush and Bin Laden play
where seldom is heard an encouraging word
and the sky’s full of gun smoke all day
9-11 (Shadow Boxing)
Bin Laden and Bush
Projectiles can’t kill projections
Shadow boxing
9-11 (September)
New York September
Two new holes in the sky
Children ask why
9-11 (Faces)
Hiroshima, Baghdad
And a thousand other places
This time with faces
COFFEE HOUSE HOUSTON
Sitting outside around the round table
Dallas and Buda and the boys
coffee cigarettes and stories
Inside of each, tables within tables
other Budas, other Dallas
votes being taken and taken again
A clear enough majority
though far from unanimous
Texas sunshine helped the swing
Fine then, another cigarette
another coffee – one more story
nobody’s in a hurry ‘round here