Monday, September 22, 2008

While you were

.I can feel it welling up within me.
.A love of
. words.
.A longing for
. poetry.
.I have seen the anger,
.The blatant smile of mediocrity.
.And I know.
. That I must.
. Rise Above.

These days I spend hours and hours in books. I read poetry, short stories, the history of America. Is it okay to say that the third is what I dread the most? So often I find myself droning through self-righteous ignorance, only excited when they mention “meanwhile, this is what the natives were doing...” Somewhere in there, the earth began to cost money, and only the "new" world was left. I feel myself more in the tribe and less in the colony.
Turn the page.

Then, without warning, I have woken up from my school work. There are less poems, and more skinny jeans. I’m walkin across campus in a Sweet World Of Dudes rather than An Idea Caught In The Act Of Dawning*. I have become a part of the pages concealed in my shoulder bag. This part of me is lost here. Is it really that bad that I want to
write letters+lay-in-the-grass+impulsively-drive-to-California
more than
wear-girl- shoes+play-hard-to-get?
I mean, especially when the Sweet Dudes aren’t even calling back. Then I remember the ones I haven't called back. Somewhere between facebook-chat and text messaging, the ease of words escapes me. Where has my poetry world gone?
*Robert Frost

A small break to talk about music, and impress you with my sweet sweet hyperlinks.
I maintain the desire to have Don Henley’s children, figuratively of course. How will I do that? Just bask in his writing, adopt a little Eagles' soul… you know.
(Before he went solo The Eagles' Greatest Hits Album was the best selling album...pretty much ever.)
The Secret is-- When you are ten, you do not love The Eagles for their record sales. Instead, you sing them in your Dad's car with the windows down-- him smilin' cause you even knew all the commentary on the live version. You love The Eagles so your Dad will think you're cool.

Ten years later, there are more reasons.-- he loves Native America, just like me.
India Arie likes him. She covers his song. "When I lost me, and you lost you..."
Annnd you know that summer one by the Ataris? "I can see you, your brown skin shinin' in the sun..." Yeah, NOT actually by The Ataris. Go Don Go.
Stevie Nicks was even his woman at one point! Stevie Nicks! Then he married a girl from Texas, and Billy Joel played at their wedding. Ballin. I love this man.

This is the part where I copy out a page.
From hiking Timpanogas, September 6th 2008.

These days when I look in the mirror, I recognize myself. I’m not sure that I’ve ever had problems with that in the past, but the identification is different now. I am happier, more hopeful. There are mountains that I have finally surmounted. I know I am not finished, but I stand here on my path, weathered and renewed, ready and open. My heart pulses in the earth. My words stream out with the wind. They grow up through the crevices in the ancient dust of rock. They tighten and expand with the fleeting goose bumps on my skin. The women of my ancestry are here, watching. Strengthening. Their legacy surrounds me in this moment.
I am the present.

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