1.

 

When the tidal forces erupt the great

Anvil-maker, Vulcan, from fertile sleep,

 

All it takes are nocturnal dreams:

Take meaning from crop circles 

To flying capes to Ghost Dances… 

 

When glittering silver splashes,

Streak “Westward Ho!” east to west, 

Even beyond Geronimo himself,

 

We are all but pebbles in freefall, 

When all it takes is a power surge

Or when sorrow turns into an ocean,

 

Stick by stick, stone by stone.  Resist!

To provoke prayers before a fallen pueblo,

Wind-swept Wupatki sandstones: relics

 

Abiding, far and away lands stolen

With new fairy tales rewritten.

Block that crap, do not touch!

 

To the denizens of Kandor, Pine Ridge,

And Nogales…  We retort.  Dear:  World

Destroyers, not gonna take it anymore!

 

From the almost eroded peaks 

Of Gray Mountain, a silver moon

Escaping like helium, remembers.

 

I am not some romantic notion,

Not a conjuring of “Alakazaam,”

Not a ruler with a golden tiara.

 

I am not some phrase, not ennui,

Not some romantic astonishment

Of cultural appropriation or atonement. 

 

2.

 

Desire, a murder of crows curtain the skies

Produce action at 11:59:01—strike one,

 

Threat of pillage, rape as valid, godless

War-painted Savage scalpings, “Massacre!” motto-

Shouts the crowd, a forger’s proverbial texts

 

Paint historic meetings.  Plymouth Pilgrims helped

The Indians, with a nice dinner of turkeys,

Corn, pumpkin pies, thanks, and poxes.

 

“Save the Man, Kill the Indian, Take the Tobacco.”

Totem poles: eagles, beavers, muskrat, 

Offering sage smudges, a camp fire, wildfires, 

 

Atomic fires, sleek turquoise ravens, brown bears,

Mouthy salmon, and chant prayers against evil

Polarizing hocus-pocus, politicized politics…

 

Polish Kingman nuggets, pull on the shiny armor, pick

The white pony, arm swing the sword, aim the bow—

Bullseye a flint arrowhead, strap a gilded shield.  

 

Let loose—a dominant culture: a night terror,

A zealot, even Brainiac himself, heartbroken

Over the last kiss.  Save one last breath for Taime.

 

I hear it again, War painted savages without 

The threat of an Indian attack.  Museum cataloged.

Your stories fall apart, your dry-walled 4 X 4 huts 

 

Carved at the expenditure of my freedoms.

I have paid the price of blood percentages,

Angry as a space shuttle’s razing cloudy ashes.

 

Atoms visible from heaven itself, upcharge

The zenith apex, gouge fortunes faster with its heavy

Taxes.  Finally, de-orbit past the brilliant doorknob.

 

3.

 

When stalagmites calcify years, limestone,

Sinter, curses, minerals, trash, trinkets,

 

You’ve slept like curly-locked Sleeping Beauty

Since pre-contact colonialism in beaver pelts.

Through fire-water instinct, I am reborn.

 

Time inspires transpires singing “defy-ing…”

It may be a lonely mad world out there

Hell-bent on Self-destruction, brightly Tragic.

 

Ask the New York skyline, it’s time Kali for sleep

In the Glittering World, then wake that sky

Turquoise explosion in the caldera dawn.

 

Orbit 0 G to 6 Gs to 30 Gs bubble-piercing

Music orchestra horns past the exosphere:

Astonish me in Japan, tsundere you will love me. 

 

A confession about you said to Lazarus dusting off.

The casino jackpot cash-out shows the future 

By hot air balloon off to Oz or Vanuatu. 

 

Overhead guiding, a pause with a smile,

There the Window Rock Fair again ‘glowy’ 

Like random Lite-Brite pegs, always warm.

 

In unison remember ancestral voices, howl

At wonder.  A burning ember floating up, 

A Heartthrob, a Showstopper, a Rockstar

 

Blasting over a stadium intercom: become

The tornado then hurricane you are, rise

Like the dead, rise like a coup de grâce,

 

It’s never enough repeating uhhh Jai Hind!

Again, Geronimo in skywriting, a flare

Signaling Hooray! searing the sky as BINGO! 

 

4. 

 

It’s repetitive, but Be the Light!  A Phoenix 

In a suicidal plunge, remember that spark—

 

An incendiary razzle-dazzle for others to follow

From miles and miles away, farther than the 

Moon sits.  In the long-faded coals swirl, whirl…

 

Flickering wings, the inferno soaring ready

To burst into an all-consuming backdraft.   

Even if the world ends in kamikaze fire,

 

I still have pride, Seraph.  I am drench,

Vats of honey anoint me.  I gleam

As the constant North leads an army.  We Rise

 

In the silent whispers to the Genie lamp, 

Sparkling hope.  The round beaver eyeball 

Continues its glare from up high on a totem pole 

 

Towering into clouds.  From the beanstalk tops

Giants are ready to fight.  Carry hope.  See

Little People of the woods carry unbroken codes.

 

Call me Victorious, beyond the Apache warriors’ 

Border horizon over the brutal truth, beyond doubt 

And tragedies, beyond the rock that betrays 

 

My gym shoes, beyond bad US Treatises written 

Like so many over-drafted checks.  On my knees, 

Knowing a strand of Kilauea’s hair can topple 

 

Skyscrapers, and bring on bubbling tribalism.

So say we all! One voice “Imua!” or “Shazam!”

Synonymous to “Touchdown!”  O say can you see!

 

There is fire in my stars to the north.  There is fire

In our stars to the south.  So, ignite up, widely open 

Your bright eyes, my brave ones, follow the star ablaze.