excerpts

2006-09-18T20:03:00.000-07:00

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some poetry from the book.... by antoinette nora claypoole

Bandito Boy bandito boy came in walking night sky shadow winter boy came in chasing dark
she died when he was six he insists he was not abandoned when he was six she died was in her belly daddy major suspect Truman and manattan project. was in her belly made nuclear a household made Indian was in her belly household word made Indian 50 years from then was in her bandito blood keeps him on the run blasting through reality lies fertile veiled breath he is Hiroshima making death the prize.

when she turned the corner she lost the trail. she had been tracking shadow. the sun was too bright. the son was not bright. everything was muted. one sight neutralized the other. she lost herself. there. at the corner. would die there. at the corner. shadow had taken her body. she was hot. on his trail. shadow had answers. wanted to keep some things sacred. shadow eluded truth. truth was not ready for her brilliance. consumed by fire. she was hot. this cannot be denied. in the aftermath she was death. was certain shad had loved. in the beginning she was love.

the little boy snuggled into the place he came from. sucked his mother’s breasts. sucked his mother’s breast. in those early years she lived for his mouth . bandito boy was her true love. she never meant him any harm. said to him you are not hard. my love for you will make you hard mama snuggles deep and proud when you are hard you are man. my baby show me you are man. once I was a daddy’s girl I understand you will be daddy someday some will say be givin love and taking it away. I say givin love dreaming not taking it away. it was in this way she meant to keep him from the war. it was in this way she sent him to the war.

was deep blustering snow when he arrive was new clear Nebraska was breathing wounded scent of mother deep no one knows this secret he keeps no one sees her alive no one sees young mother is his lover no one sees memory tempts shame brought him memory makes blame makes winter fire here walking night sky says baby come for me brought him here to lose her self

when he was six he killed his mother his mama died leaving him a legacy of sex is death is power is betrayed is not a concept he inststs she never left him he thinks he took her life was playing Lakota didn’t want her anymore believer he was her true love then left her all alone too long too many times outside beneath the elements of ancestry believes his absence killer her. sex. is death in death they are one seizing dark bandito boy brings a woman to her life sometimes when he was six he said he killed his mother better than believing she made the choice to leave him all alone

bandito boy he is renegade betrayed stealing phantom breast between his lips she is haunted breath inside his eyes is no disguise he calls it double suicide he thinks he died with her that day he calls it double suicide bandito boy he runs a double lie in this way he walks night sky in this way he is her shadow in this way she is always at his side chasing dark away.

Clear Mist Rising

the long sleek song of her body is gone. is not laying out violet oil for me to rub onto my breasts, my flirtation with death ….jumping into the van at a gas and soda stop somewhere the mount hood side of madras…. i want to snake braid her hair. i make her a warrior one as we head into the urban jungle for another shake the shackles from an audience trying to remember how not to forget. the small house with stone people and desert bones stacked on sills. i hug her. take my life. and toss it through her truth. a stab at immortality. words she did not grab but strung like abalone on elk hide strand for me to wear to chase the blues onto a place like table rock where some locals say indians held each other close and leaped into what crazy horse calls the real world. to keep the cowboy mormons from one of many massacres.

someone said the other day that doctors have reported the first person to have died from an HIV kiss. just this week. gotta be sooner hope it’s not later. love is indicted. taken in cuffs and i don’t know if she liked marat de sade. and i didn’t know how to lay long with her. and sometimes i didn’t want to be our brother’s medicine. sometimes in her tall eyes i yelled they lie. this is not dying. she is not dying. and i am not afraid to breath her words. to drink her long dark hair into my dreams. to weave her jeans into my limbs and “stand alive until i die living for the People” and i don’t believe in HIV.
i believe in woman in man in betraying ways some say is in the DNA mostly i believe she drifts through me like clear mist rising.

Dusty Dakotas pouring into earth hair cascades drumming braiding weaving blackened vines of refuge dust blown dakotas burst morning swelling into midday sun little ones remember ruby signing lips nuzzling into knees weeping hazy twilight marines unite one thousand miles away i was young so were you romping through a yard claiming satisfaction guaranteed or money back whose land is this just don’t you mind that dear girl the indians are dead

just then i hit the Earth a swaying clanging screw of sorts brought me to my knees the pedal pushers pretend to be my skin i take them off the flesh is gashed looking close i can see all that lives inside of me what is this wound on knee oozing mystery premonitions seeping deep through every skirt they put on me breezes slide open wide gauging everywhere i try to leave i knew you lived i couldn’t speak your name they took me to their hospital where medicine’s obscene placed a screen around my throat tried to choke the words inside i lied i squeaked it works this pumping pablum price you pay dying oh no someone else has got her tongue too young it’s time to render mute all but cute refrains lavishly i schemed escape

‘whose lives are these where bandages pretend to heal deliberately conceal bleeding never stops cutting deep no retreat they take your hands i give you mine we dive through time...’ scars cascade through scared mounds crimson soaked growing still i feel you there like quake cannot divide gliding endless sweetgrass air breath we share. colliding. searching ravaged dreams. brave-hearted woman pine ridge roamer combing weaving softened strides one thousand remgiments cannot contain winter snow where old ones know your life it has no end. july 21, 1994 stewart mineral springs weed, california

"Janis and Tommy" photo by Lisa Law
from la Puerta, Taos (click here)

who would unbraid her hair

back in 1970 janis joplin says someone asker her to do a movie. said she didn’t know what she’d play. but it sure wouldn’t be a virgin. laughed her big like spilling creek, said “not me. i’m not that much of an actress”. she died alone a couple months later.

sleeping around. some kind of bad girl flag. boys aer men make notches in their back then holsters in their right now we live in a boring time. afraid to romp and reel inside desire. some watch and remember. the guy was virile, the girl, they pursed and twisted lips insist, a whore. who would unbraid her hair, stare into a winterwind walk into her grave?

this young trying to be woman is proud. says to me i never went to bed with him. want everyone to know i don’t sleep around. and this is how far back the slavery remits. the daddy’s slip a bit between her teeth keeps woman pulling a high bid, remember honey, doctors once got good money for tightening the port of entry.

where do i live. what is the place of pale faced quivered lipped can’t be a woman on the make, is she cold. her hands are shaking. she can’t say warrior, an activist. a sister indian resistance keeper. has to read it from a page. a hollowed call to the place of i’m a girl afraid to talk to all of you. how cute. how darling. now. here’s where we return to roll over dear. it’ll only take a minute.

i’ve come to like the sleeps around attack. the try to discredit my existence insistence on invalid. outmoded corrupting naked moon you dancing heathen. and now, with disease. a suicidal smack. they heavy breath. a lethal o.d. check the wrist. . yep. there are scars. yes. these are scars. look how i left hand filed cuffs away and use the shackles on a lover now and then so he can pretend he knows where i am coming from.

‘...lay down. and love this guy. he goes away. i love his friend the rest of my life i am alive there is no word for us we long to be . no word describes these ways....’ until today. a sister hears cold melting snow resisting spring bury us and we are born immortal.

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