Monthly Archives: May 2017

Wednesday, May 31 I hadn’t begun to look for a poem this morning for today’s post, technically at least, the final post before Work Day/Hard Time’s summer break (back again August 1).  I was only browsing Crain’s Detroit Business before turning to … Continue reading →

Friday, May 26, 2017 Most of this year’s time on the Rez I’ve already lived;  I begin to ease into the kind of sadness that tells me that the beauty of these long friendships and the long love of this … Continue reading →

Wednesday May 24,  a wisdom-saying born on the Pine Ridge Lakota Reservation “Time spent baking bread follows the pace of yeast” I slept in until almost 8:00 after a lovely evening with Don & Paulette Montileaux in Rapid City;  we talked about … Continue reading →

Thursday May 18   about very old wine and time for contemplation A busy time in my work life rearranges this week’s calendar for posts,  Monday and Thursday instead of M-W-Fr.  An intuition sent me back to Fatema Keshavarz and her … Continue reading →

Monday after Commencement, May 15 Remembering when I lost my copy of The Freeing of the Dust;  remembering when a close friend restored the book with a signed copy.   Why am I thinking of this long loved love poem today? — … Continue reading →

Monday, May 8  “And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white . . . ” I listened to a news report yesterday about the unique terrors of chemical weapons, those originating in chemical … Continue reading →

Friday, May 5   “She listens, listens, holding her breath. Surely that voice is his . . . ” Sometimes a poet finds a poem in a painting.    As Denise Levertov did in this 1620 painting by Diego Velázquez; … Continue reading →

Wednesday, May 3 – “Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn  .  .  .” I think I began to appreciate darkness as an ally in 1968, living in Oglala, South Dakota with Luke and … Continue reading →

Monday  May 1  – “ . . .  so the weapons sleep beneath the dust . . . .” I met the poet Dunya Mikhail when another poet and life-long friend Joy Harjo, read and performed at The University of … Continue reading →