sunlight moved inside the thousand specks of dust
       in a cheap hotel in oceanside
       your cigarette smoke awoke me
       pulsing toward the half opened window

       you were never there

       the blood on the whiskey bottle was mine

       years later I have still have the words you gave me
       thank you
       i have gone toward those who are lost
       and found your footprints

       even at the edge

       of nothing…

for my uncles
icici, Croatia


procession

       ascending the darkness of a winter night
       a lone bird

       the song in its mouth
       resembling string or something torn from a scream

       flies across the moon face

       tonight is the last night for so many
       their strewn shadows extending from africa to gaza
       one large moving presence across

       our faces

       as leaves blown from another world….


fragment

       yesterday on track 13
       at the vienna train station

       where years ago people were herded in train cars
       for the gas chambers of dachau

       Strange lights appeared in the passageways

       i am far from the wind embraced plains of Oklahoma

       each leaf undulating in sunlight a memoried soul
       that cannot be lost

       drinking the water of an eternity

       we yearn to remember

       filled with song.

in memorium
for mike Austin
cherokee austrian brother

/ / / / / / / /

       Im playing solitaire with a pearl handled card deck
       While it rains at an outside bar in groom texas
       Lightning cracks between the plains and a day lit moon
       Following three days of anger and desolation
       A wind flares damp against my face

       the amazonian rain forest the yanomami women are selling
       Their bodies as prostitutes so their warriors
       Can afford guns and ammunition to fight the goldminers

       On a plane between bangkok and manila last september
       A drunk and pungent american is staring at my long hair
       Colonists all smell the same
       On any given day i can spit in any direction and hit one

       Its cold and dusty on cerrilos road in santa fe
       I havent spoken to anyone in six days
       At a taco stand a kid in a military suit asks me
       If im someone
       Shit
       I didnt even know i was there

       It is said that noah sent two ravens out into the flooded world
       They never returned
       I met them in the red light district in amsterdam last year
       Disguised as defrocked monks
       I told them i was flying away from America
       The told me they were still flying away from the arc…..

ponticella, italy


the wolf texts

       For whom does the world have a name
       It is named by those who do not know the world
       Names exist so that people will not feel lost

       In a world that is lost to them already

       In a clearing place i taste its sweet passage
       There are flying things beyond the fires of men
       They keep their arms as if they are wings

       These men are nothing but bones singing to their sorrow….

san lazzaro di savena, Italy


Lance Henson (mahagodomiutzhetomitoneotsistsistas) was raised in the Cheyenne Nation of Oklahoma, by his grandparents. A recent recipient of the Ostana International Prize in Italy for his translations of Cheyenne poetry, he has forty-three books published. He directs a literary project in Europe, Words from the Edge, which brings poets from endangered tribes to read their work in five consenting nations.
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