Poems and Prose

Vespers

Day slips into the place of listening: Image against sun—a small bird, forelimbs flowing like a monastic silver–...

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Psalm

In the stark lovely of snow Wind whirls handfuls thru trees — That it lingers here! It piles...

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Name Day

—For my grandmother And for Joy Harjo This guttural breath of thunder commanded me to find her here...

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frog

old and crusted with dirt skin some shade of olive so dark I am afraid my spade will...

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The Book of Myth

—We call ourselves ripe, and pine tree, and woman. --Joy Harjo for Margie My aunt gave me a...

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And the great White Pelicans

lifted themselves with such grace that I felt some blessing fall upon us from the black-tipped wings gathering...

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Here

"The only other sound's the sweep of easy wind and downy flake" —Robert Frost Here a splintered split...

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Transmigration

Only the least sandpiper stayed to catch my thoughts, birds themselves, flits of movement. In Syria, the people...

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Sowing Stones

Still as stone, by the riverbank overlooking shimmering water, you see two wolves streak across the meadow, gray...

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