for every massacre

the two huge crows chasing each other
in huge loops over me as i
run east, toward the trail worn at the one
wild edge of campus
_______
it’s a sacrifice, but you don’t know
it’s sacrifice, it’s just what you do

frank buffalo hyde says about
making art while he walks us through
his show I-witness culture at the
museum of indian arts and culture
_______
the view of the jemez
from up here (near upper canyon road)
how if i had a camera, i would
take a picture of all that blue
(blackblue mountain shapes sifted
with snow and above that,
whiteblue and brightblue sky
and the brightwhite strip of clouds
stretched across it)
_______
it can keep you honest frank says
about the tool that a smartphone is
it’s useful, but it depends on how you you use it

for every massacre you know/read about,
there are 10 more that you don’t know about
he says amongst the buffalos and ufos
_______
the pink and stars of the 
smells-like-teen-spirit influenced
hopi cheerleader
in mid-cheer
_______
how i dip my fingers in the
raspberry tea that fiona poured and then
use the liquid to smudge the rainbow lines
drawn across the page
_______

over fresh holly-made oatcakes
and butternut squash soup
holly, fiona and i take turns
asking each other what it takes
(in a living situation/at a job/in life)
to thrive
for one it comes down to a sense of home
for another it comes down to spending time
with her mom 
and for me, well, it’s not so clear
but then i say how i want to live in 
the beginning of the lord of the rings trilogy
before all the evil forces grab hold
_______

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Natan Cabral, 5, stands on the cracked ground of the Boqueirao reservoir in the Metropolitan Region of Campina Grande, Paraiba state, Brazil.

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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