Unbelievable Night

Joseph’s whole day is so perfect on Thanksgiving. Then his night is truly a living nightmare. That’s what happens when you’re young, Native, and living on the west side of Denver. There are lots of Natives in Denver. Lots of young native men come from the reservations and think that the city rules are like the rez rules. Rules are…

Relocation

I came without hope in December rain Half-eaten by the circle of vultures Whose promises I refused to slurp A cast away crash landed Mid metamorphosis I merge With the city, the sky, puddle pocked streets A winter sludge creeping through A maze of signals and lights Truant face behind a streak of chrome Fading vertigo of the speedway whirl…

X

— simply the sound that begins like; lacking x-istence, complex opaque liquids, next to godliness, x-traordinary, x-communcation, xoneration of affection, crucifixion, grinding axes, constricting lariats of x-convicts, hacking to pieces, x-humation of remains, x-cavation of artifacts, life-like taxidermies, still-born after contractions, stainless steel sinks, exquisite stink of imperfect blackness, 149x-ecution, Andrew Jackson’s x-odus, Lincoln’s 38 Dakota necks (+2), Diné code…

Life is Education

“How are you my boy?” asked the receptionist. “I guess alright. I found out I am going to be a dad,” said Moses. “Congratulations! What are you having?” the receptionist asked. “I don’t know yet. How is my mom doing?” he asked. “She’s doing real well. She has made some real progress. I think this time might be her last,”…

2014 Introduction by Irving Morris

Yá’át’ééh. Shí éí bilagáanaa k’ehji Irvin Morris dashijiní. Tábaahíéí nishlí dóó Tótsohnii éí báshíshchíín. Tó’áhaníéí dashicheii dóó Kinyaa’áanii éí dashinálí. Nahashch’idí hoolyéédóóéííyisí naashá. K’ad éí T’iists’óóz hoolyédi Diné bee hódehgo bidziilgo óólt’a’ígii, Navajo Technical University hoolyéegii éí naashnish. Bilagáanaa bizaad éí bína’nishtin. Saad naach’aah aldóó’ bína’nishtin. Kwít’éego éí Diné nishlí. Greetings. My English name is Irvin Morris. I am of the Edgewater…

A Special Message from Luci Tapahonso

Four years ago, I wrote the following lines memorializing one of my last times with my mother: “We were alone in the quiet house. Across the road, a cow bellowed and somewhere by the wash, Dogs were barking playfully. One sounded like a puppy. Here in the living room, we rested, closing our eyes. Then she said, with her eyes…

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