Comfort?

You rise in false triumph to face the unfamiliar church full of people—clusters of Bristol Bay and Tundra families—gathering with a smattering of bible-carrying city congregants who bend toward the shadows of your church on an early Friday afternoon. The folks welcoming me warmly had come in from the sunshine to pay respects to our ilung who hadn’t heeded repeated…

Going AWOL

It is a hot and sunny summer in Farmington, NM. The day is nice enough for a bike ride along the Berg Park Animas River trail. Too bad today is not the day to partake in these outdoor opportunities. Especially when my work schedule demands eight hours straight of doing the same thing every day. The Red Apple Transit has…

A Prayer for Piestewa

We fought for our land We fought for our survival   Today they told us that We, were the warriors modern day heroes armed with education every group of people need some education in order to succeed, but one thing they forgot to mention was that some would still pick up a gun in the name of freedom. This poem…

Somewhere in the Fog

I was lost and trying to get home There was a heavy cool thickness clouding visibility Silhouettes walked out of the dark greyness into the light that surrounded my every step and move People, and faces peering out through the windblown thickness of the fog Each looking at me as if I knew what to do Their faces pleading, “take…

Journey to the Canyon Floor

Deep down into the canyon where the spires live, breathing in the dust of histories, our feet move slowly through the long trail, blistered and tender they move on. Passing foot and handholds along the rock edge, we run our fingers along their crests, absorbing the ancient oils of our ancestors as we make our decent. Reddened walls interrupted only…

Nata’yo

<em>Nata’yo</em>

David and Sunockv

In the late afternoon of a windless yesterday, bees swarmed the Purple Robe Locust tree outside my apartment window. The breeze brought them back today and they swarmed the trees in the grove outside my apartment fence. Chile, the Blue Bull, barked. Annie, the Blue Police Dog, whined. Big Boy, the Chow Pit, howled. The bees ignored us and continued…


From Pandan Leaf to Birch Bark

I had been living in Bali, Indonesia, when I came to visit my relatives on the Leech Lake reservation. It was a regular trip I took with my parents each time I visited from abroad. My parents still lived on the East Coast at the time, so we would road trip out to Leech Lake and also to Turtle Mountain,…


On The Trail to the Swamp

She is alone. Alone, with cats and dogs and fish. The morning is dark. She flicks on a kitchen light switch. She descends to the basement TV room to feed the flitting neon swimmers. She sees that she forgot, the previous night, to turn off the tank light. Her hand taps two shakes of flaked fish food into the lit…


Texier’s Travels

The Parisian spends an afternoon in a magnolia grove glowing with ivory blooms. His hunting shirt is purple, embroidered with orange flowers and the morning star. He wants an Osage girl for a few piasters, a buffalo hunt, an Indian’s skull. In lemon-scented shade, he dreams the New World, a rattler at his feet. Ruby Hansen Murray (“They don’t know…


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