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Migrate Dying Children


Migrate dying children.

Do you leave the parent of your birth,
or are you cast off?

Or is your separation by mutual agreement
while you still have some life left?

Fall to the Earth in ones and twos and multitudes,
until you finally expire.
Lie dessicate on the ground,
or rot in sopping wet,
neglected.

Trod upon by uncaring feet.
Ground beneath the wheels of vehicles whose owners
have come to gawk at the casualties
of this yearly conflict.

Waste away as the cold and snow entomb you.

The irony is that most people will exclaim in wonder
at the color of the blood left behind at your death.
Or the golden glory as your spirit passes.

6 AM


Thump…

then a door closes…

another thump.

 

*groan*

Time to get up and make lunches.

 

Where is the sun?

Haleakala


Nanabozhu decided to visit Maui on the spur of the moment. What he didn’t know was that Maui decided to visit Red Lake at the same time. So they missed each other. Nonetheless, Nanabozhu had a great time on Maui’s island. This morning Nanabozhu decided to greet the sun at the top of Haleakala, and take the bike tour down. He thought it was kinda funny that the tour guides slept in the van because the mountain was covered in clouds and they knew that no one would see the sun that morning from the top of the mountain.

Nanabozhu decided to check out the gift shop since it was open  during the time the sun rose. He chanced upon a Hawaiian ranger chastising a white tourist who had (N. supposed) complained about not being able to see the sunrise. The ranger said in her best berating voice. “I’m Hawaiian, and we are taught from when we are very young to discern things with all six of our senses, not just our sight. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a duty to perform.” And with that she left.

You go girl!” Nanabozhu thought. The term “Haoli”, coming to mind.  Outsiders would always be Haoli to a native people. There would always be that sense of otherness between them. He had to smile at the irony. Here, Nanabozhu was haoli.

He then followed her outside to a crowd of about six hundred people who had gathered, and this is what he saw and said:

tour

Cold impenetrable fog whips their hair.

A crowd and Japanese tour couples stand huddled.

Their windbreakers occasionally wrapped in ineffectually thin blankets.

Waiting in vain for a visible sunrise.

Hawaiian Haiku


stratus clouds embrace Lanai

silhouettes before a setting sun

their edges chiaroscuro


InTheRain4

I hear a finale of fireworks

crackle across the crown

of my blue and white umbrella.


Nanabozhu is on his way to Detroit Lakes, Minnesota, where the people are unique and peculiar.

“Can you pull up next to that guy driving that semi?” He rolls down the back passenger side window to the Chrysler Town and Country.

“I don’t think it’s going to accomplish anything.” Says the blond in the front seat.

“Well, I have to try,” he replies.

By now they are alongside the guy driving the semi at 75 miles an hour. Nanabozhu sticks his head out the window (which doesn’t quite open up all the way so he’s kinda squished through it.)  The trucker looks down at them and sees an older Anishinabe fellow squinting with effort as Nanabozhu tries to make a  rolling motion with the one hand he can get out of it.

The truck driver rolls down his window with a curious look on his face. With the wind whipping by, he thinks he hears Nanabozhu yell something like “Your barn door’s open!” (Which is a euphemism for “the zipper on your pants is undone”.) Nanabozhu can see him mouth “What?!” with an incredulous look on his face.

“Your back door is open!” Nanabozhu yells again. The trucker smiles and waves with that easygoing look of someone who has heard you say something but is too polite to tell you that they didn’t quite understand what you said.

Their Town and Country pulls ahead, leaving the truck behind with Ben their driver glancing back in the SUV’s rear view mirror to watch the trucker checking his side view mirrors looking like someone who, with a little thought, has finally  figured out what you were trying to say,  and the trucker finally begins to pull off the road.

Mission accomplished.

Anishinabe Haiku


Wings that can’t be seen

iridescent blues and greens

tiny hummingbird

 

 

Is it Anishinabe haiku

because an Anishinabe wrote it,

or is it Anishinabe haiku

because of the subject?

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