Voices of the Rainbow

I checked out a book of contemporary American Indian poetry titled Voices of the Rainbow.  It's overdue and I didn't want to forget these highlights, so I'm posting them here.  I especially like the two by A.K. Redwing.


Two Hookers by A.K. Redwing (Lakota)

      1
reeking of unsolved crime, the cop
         pursues a flat-footed junkie
                                  into a bottomless garbage can
Following a brief exchange of animosities
                                                they emerge . . .
the cop wearing sandals and a thousand bills
       the junkie, a badge and 24 lumps

      2
                                                           two hookers
kneel in the shadow of a mafia boss . . .
           the money in their hands once
                      belonged to the pope

      3
                                                       a cosmic jury
finds the true villains of wounded knee guilty. . . .
                                        a plowshare and a reaper
                  hang at dawn-
A radio, a television set, and a bourgeois
                    prairie newspaper hang as accomplices


Written in Unbridled Repugnance Near Sioux Falls, Alabama - April 30, 1974 by A.K. Redwing

      1
As the dust from the wet dream of a nation
       settles on the tuxedoes
                of yesterday's heroes,

       a friendly hand becomes a fist

forged in elusive furnaces
       by unseen Hitlers, in ignorance. . . .

      2
While eternally sightless eyes compete
       with hopelessly deaf ears for

       the first crack at your ass,

       the beast in the living room
            winks its psychedelic orb
            at a picture of Chief Joseph. . . .

      3
Bronze statues of ancient rapists
applaud tactical squads crunching skulls

As in the dim light of humanity,

Adam weeps. . . .


Spruce by Phil George (Nez Perce--Tsimshian)

She transplanted each spruce, blue as the
Blue mountains from where they came.
Laden with child in womb, on horseback she went,
Bareback and alone--overnight.
Her floral-beaded saddlebags with fringes to hooves
Were filled with the last salmon run--smoked, sweet--
And the freshest of broiled venison.

In our little Switzerland, private and "undiscovered,"
She made an opening in the forest;
She sang in the Sun where she uprooted the tree.
She planted each spruce--one for each child--
Seven healthy trees, strong in a row.
Except one.
That was Uncle in Korea.
She knew the second he was wounded when
She detected yellow fungus on the bleeding bark.
Under Uncle's arm she slept until the telegram came.

In mourning she cut off her braids;
She planted them under the fungus--it disappeared.
She planted the telegram under his roots
Just like she planted salmon in the hole she
Dug with deer antlers when she planted each spruce.
Salmon returns to its same spawning stream
To die.

Anthropologists study our "pagan spruce worship"--
Evergreen ferns that carry Smoke Prayers eternally skyward--
And wonder . . . "Why?"
Sophisticated vultures in the shade of her spruce
Eating their lunch after picking our bones
And pulling her braids . . . laughing.

And I wonder: Why?


Land by Carroll Arnett (Cherokee)

Without this
what is
worth doing.


Sunrise by Jim Tollerud (Makah)

The old canoe in
Frost of dawn
Gray water and
Black paddle combine
The man of age
Guides the small canoe
From hemlock village
Pray to the hunt
Morning is sacred,
The mind is refreshed
The hunt for food
Brings glory to the
Warrior of knowledge

The Forest.

The fog lifted just as I arrived
Here.  I saw it and then I turned
Exactly one minute later, it was gone.

For mists must be cleared and
Order must be restored because
Retinae despise a clouded view.
Eventually, we must all be able to
See the forest from our vantage in
The trees.

-RKM

It's time to post some good news.

Soon...

A bad feeling I remember

My dad died in April 2005.  A couple of months later, my dad's brother Mike died too.  The following year, a friend of mine succumbed to a lengthy battle with Leukemia.  Thoughts I'd had before started to come alive - what if I was bad luck?  What if everyone and everything I interact with is suddenly destined for unfortunate demise?  Maybe the world would be better off without me.  So I digressed into a state of nearly nothing.  Looking back, I remember an obsession with shadows.  I wonder now if I wondered then which part of me was real - the physical me or my every-bit-as-present shadow.  Shortly after my friend died, my Ma was diagnosed with cancer too.  The thoughts got worse and I fell off the deep end.  I was prepared to destroy myself and in my mind, if I were to succeed, I would be a martyr.  I would have (finally) made the world a better place.  Cocaine, booze, weed, cocaine, booze, weed, MDMA, heroin, cocaine, booze, weed.  After work, before work, during work, after work, before work, during work, yesterday, today, didn't sleep, maybe tomorrow, probably tomorrow, hopefully tomorrow.  My blood was probably poison.  My urine brown and putrid from dehydration and an overworked endocrine system.  I thought nobody could tell.  I was a fucking fool.  A couple of my friends overdosed on accident.  Maybe I was more hopeful than I thought.  It's not as though I was better at getting intoxicated, but I never crossed that line.  I danced with it, sure.  I hope now that I never gave up on myself.  I certainly wonder how many others did, but that's not for me to worry about.  I wish I could remember if I ever completely gave up on myself, though.  I remember thinking about it.  I think I remember convincing myself not to, but I'm probably lying to myself to protect some cosmic truth.  As though, if I could not see the value in my own self being, then I would, by the laws of the cosmos, not be at all.  Of course, I never slipped into unbeing.  People cared about me, whether I did or didn't.  But I haven't forgotten what it feels like to live in the gray area between existence and non.  In some ways, I still exist in that fog.  I'm not sure I understand how to exist properly.  

The Great And Holy Church Of The Land

This morning I watched the sun rise over the Skunk River Valley and as I stood tall and strong like a mountain, with my feet rooted firmly in the medicine wheel, I breathed the air deeply and the land breathed with me.  For a long, exhilarating moment, we were merged into one being.  Inseparable as the turtle from his shell.  We were not brothers or fathers of one another, but a singular living unit.  As I perspired, so too did the land and we waited with glee as the bright sun climbed over the tops of great cottonwoods.  I beckoned with my hands and the birds rose and cried out, "Come!  Come!  Come!"  And as the sun cast light over the water and the meadows, the trees and shrubs, like me, were the congregation of the Great And Holy Church Of The Land.  We exhaled deeply with our arms outstretched and felt good, loving warmth wash over us.  All was reborn.  We emerged clean and unafraid to brave our shortcomings in the golden glow.

-R.K.M.

What culture?

What good is multi-culturalism?  I'm having trouble seeing the value in a group of cultures in close proximity working independently for toward segregated ends.  What we need, I think, is unity.  A blend of cultures that leaves no trace of any one culture in the wake.  Churn, churn, churn them in upon one another until a new culture is born thick and rich with flavor.  That's how we build community.  Imagine yourself as a bird flying over your hometown.  Here's what mine looks like: along the train tracks and skirting the town reside the poor -  squeaking among the links of the filthy industrial and business district.  Stepping  beyond there are the older neighborhoods where the aging middle class resides in single-story homes with fences under 80-foot silver maple and honeylocust.  Flying past, we come to the high-amenity areas, fringed with forests and dotted with quaint fountain-ponds.  Here lie the rich.  Sprawling 5000 square foot lairs packed inside their walls and washed in the blood of the lamb, as they proudly drop their tithe in the basket - hearts aflutter.

Where is the community in this arrangement?  The wealthy animosity for the poor is clear.  They draw themselves to the northwest because they know the air is cleaner there.  They leave the poor to wallow because they believe them at fault for their plight.

There's more to this thought.  But I have to get to work.

Note To Self

Write post about manhood.

Notes:

Drink
Fight
Pussy
Fast
Not naive
Open-minded
Confident
Controlling
Dominant
Muscular
Bull-headed
Strong
Compassionate
Imaginative
Solemn/Somber/Appropriately Quiet
Thinking
Assertive
Pragmatic/Evolving

The Secret Sharer

I read "The Secret Sharer" by Joseph Conrad last night.  Solid short story.  I feel like I've been depriving myself of reading quality literature for too long.  After a few pages, I was more drawn in than most movies or T.V. shows could have me.  I just need to force myself to try a book first because the small amount of extra effort was totally worth it (My other idea for the evening was to get ripped and watch "Friday").  I always feel a connection to a good book, but somehow "The Secret Sharer" seemed to be the perfect read for me right now.  It's about a ship captain who is trying to come to grips with his newfound authority and learn to command with confidence.  I think I'm in a similar place, albeit not with a bunch of scurvy seadogs.  I need to continue to struggle out of my old passive self and learn to be assertive and bold.  Always a struggle, but well worth it.  If you feel similarly, or if you like pirate-talk, or if you just want a good read, give this short story a shot - I think my edition is only about 30 pages.  Pure gold.  On to "Heart of Darkness" (another of Conrad's novellas).

Gardening

Gardening is great.  Working the soil and integrating oneself with the natural world.  What could be better than hot afternoons spent toiling in the yard?  We are so small.  So incredibly worthless.  There exists a positive correlation between the degree to which we become the world around us and the value we add to our existence in the universe.  Seek your happiness in a feeling of oneness with the earth.

Losing it

Too much too much took on too much too many too many gonna lose my fucking mind.  Lada lada lada ladee.  Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Tapping the keys making sounds like a train that’s chug-a-chug-a-chugging off a motherfucking cliff.  Losing it losing it losing it.  Wrong turn.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Death to my right insanity to my left all I can do is run runrunrunrunrunrunrun fuckfuckfuckfuckfufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!

To lower standards or ride the blue line to fuck me sideways town…  time marches on.

FUCK

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKUFCKFUCKUF;hdsvq[avgdsfweqm;dfixkmds;lkmsdakl;sadmkl;sl;sdakl;sdkl;msdlkmw;lkm dsf;lkm
peker[dfs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Poetic thoughts.

I wanted to get these down somewhere permanent so I wouldn't lose them.  Just a few isolated ideas...

Light behind me
Silhouette on the concrete
My smoke's shadow
Graffiti galleries murmuring
in the distance
Ames, Iowa

----------------------------------------------------------------

The language of disappointment.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Thirsty enough to chug that Tijuana sludge

----------------------------------------------------------------

Reeking of bacon, baby powder, and Barbasol, but never more a man

----------------------------------------------------------------

-R.K.M.

Brain Exercise

I have not written anything of significance.  I like a few things that I once wrote.  I read them and words come to my mind like talent, forgone, rationality.  In that order sometimes - as in this case.  Even now, as I try to write about my (lack of) writing, I can't hold the words long enough to get them down.

Ok. Freewriting.

Music.  Miles Davis.  Buh badabububada.  Squeaking and squealing like worn breaks, but with so much air.  He speaks to me in manic spasms.  And as the song moves along, I recognize that it's not that there is no form, no rhythm, or no melody, but that to understand and embrace the music, you have to show it some respect and pay attention!  Relax, as the bassist walks you down the damp, florescent street, tapping your hands on your pants - impersonating the pianist.  Then turn suddenly down an alley where Miles wants you to meet an ominous cloaked figure.  But on further inspection, you realize it's a familiar woman in an ankle-length mink coat.  She curls her finger, beckoning you near and as she links her arm with yours, your chest puffs.  Continuing down the alley, the music stops as the two of you look back at Miles, your lips drawing up as if to say, "I'll see you at breakfast."

-RKM  

What the GOP seems to stand for...

Judging by the audience reactions during recent debates, the GOP...

Believes that gay soldiers are not fit to serve.
Believes that war is a diplomacy tool.
Believes that Mexicans (which I believe covers all Latin Americans) should be deported.
Believes that you have a right to life... until you're born.
Believes that society has no obligation to the poor or the sick.
Believes that if you are struggling, it's your own fault.
Believes that we should tax the poor to reduce the burden on the rich.
Believes that their party represents "Christian values".

One of these things is not like the others...

-RKM

Ranting about resource development

This is a journal entry I wrote for a class I am taking.  The interesting part starts after the second paragraph (the first two paragraphs provide background regarding the particulars of the Hetch Hetchy Dam controversy).  Enjoy!

NREM 460 Journal – Journal Entry #1 – 01.17.12

Hetch Hetchy Dam Issue, 01.17 & 01.19

            This week we began looking into the Hetch Hetchy Dam controversy.  Essentially, those arguing for the dam claim that it is the most economical way to bring about the “greatest good” through the exploitation of water resources for electricity production as well as municipal and agricultural use.  On the other hand, those opposed to the dam counter that there are many other sources from which the city of San Francisco may draw their water that would not have a negative impact on National Park Service lands.

            Personally, I stand firmly against the damming of Hetch Hetchy Valley.  In fact, I stand against the construction of dams generally because the economic benefits seem to rarely outweigh the ecological costs.  The proponents of the dam claim that it is imperative that they dam Hetch Hetchy because it is the only feasible site due to economics and logistics.  This is an often-used tactic of extractors.  It is likely that this simplification of the situation is misleading and that there are several other location options to consider.  The least-cost argument turns to mush as well because once the dam is built it has become twice as expensive as predicted (typical of infrastructure projects such as these).  Moreover, those are just the construction costs – to include the externalities associated with a dam of this magnitude likely at least doubles this number again.  The most important argument against the dam is probably this: damming a river to flood a valley in a national park for the purposes of supplying water to a municipality inherently puts the local interests of thousands of people ahead of national interests that represent millions of people.  An analysis of costs and benefits associated with this kind of favoritism would almost certainly show that the right thing to do to provide for the “greatest good” is to leave the valley in it’s natural state for all Americans (and international visitors) to visit.  If one accepts this assertion, the bottom falls out of Pinchot et al.’s utilitarian argument.

            I didn’t find the Hetch Hetchy issue very stimulating.  The case is a classic in its own right and in the sense that similar controversies arise regarding development projects an a near-constant basis (e.g. all other major dams, ANWR, Keystone XL, offshore drilling and wind turbines, logging and building roads in national forests, mountain-top removal coal mining, etc, etc, etc).  It gets old.  Those in favor tend to make the following claim: this development project will create jobs, which will stimulate the local economy, which will lure in more businesses/jobs, which will create a cycle of positive feedback where development = jobs = money = local (often, rural) well-being.  Unfortunately, the reality is often quite dissimilar from the rosy picture painted by the proponents of development.  Often what happens is that development of a resource creates a few jobs locally, but is mostly done by trained laborers from outside the local area, who send their money home to feed their families and leave the local economy no better off when they are gone.  Beyond that, the “resource development” often looks a lot more like land rape.  Biodiversity and ecosystem services are highly degraded in the area because the people extracting the resources perceive no stake in the health of the ecosystem and any economic benefit that could have been generated via ecotourism is destroyed.  Cases such as this are innumerable – in fact, entire books have been written on the subject (e.g. Power’s “Lost Landscapes and Failed Economies.”).  The moneymaking strategy of many American corporations can be summed up neatly in this way: privatize the profits and pass the costs on to society.

Those opposed to the development project might talk until they are blue in the face about the sabotage that the project represents to their local economy or biota, but their claims seem to fall on deaf ears.  While, according to historical accounts, their opinions probably represent the most reasonable idea of the eventual outcome of such resource development, they are painted as hippie treehuggers, environmental extremists, or are otherwise stigmatized in an effort to discredit their opinions. Few people understand the ecological implications of resource extraction, so it is easy for moneyed interests to blast the public with exaggerated economic development figures (based on methodologies of which the public has no understanding) in order to sway majority opinion in their direction.  As a result, a few wealthy people win big and the rest suffer the consequences of their own ignorance.

So, it should come as no surprise that I read through the Hetch Hetchy arguments with a sigh and an eye roll – I’ve heard it before.  We’ve all heard it before.  Over and over again.  It’s tiresome.  Perhaps the battle is unwinnable.  There is often too much apathy and ignorance among the majority to influence policy and too much money among the minority to keep their opinion from dominating the conversation.  On the other hand, that doesn’t mean that the battle is not worth fighting.  If nothing else, we can at least slow the rate of environmental degradation in hopes that enough people will wake up and turn the tide.  If we can accomplish that, sustainability might one day trump shortsightedness – to the benefit of the entire biosphere.

Letter to the Editor

This puppy never got published (although I did get interviewed about it), so I'll publish it myself...

12.23.11

Robert K. Manatt

1312 Johnson St.

Ames, IA 50010

Letter to the Editor

Title: In Support of “Occupy Iowa Caucus”

            There is little good to be said about the political process in our country these days.  We have congressional approval ratings running below 13% as of 12.18.11 (http://www.realclearpolitics.com) and a president who seems to have forgotten the values upon which he campaigned.  Many Americans are having trouble on election days deciding not for the “best” candidate, but the “least bad” one.

As a result, the nation has erupted into protest – prominently under the banner of the “Occupy” movement.  Pundits and others have chosen to dismiss or demonize the “occupiers”, but I doubt that most Americans have been fooled by their mischaracterizations.  For the most part, these masses of people are just peace-loving, justice-seeking, concerned citizens who are choosing to assert both their inalienable and government-ensured rights.

Beneath the umbrella of views represented by the “occupiers” – being of all ethnicities, creeds, and political persuasions – we are taking collective action to “occupy” the Iowa Caucus.  We are tired of the political games being played on both sides of the aisle – tired of Obama, Gingrich, Perry, Bachmann, and the rest.  If you are feeling similarly, we urge you to join us in caucusing for “uncommitted” on January 3, 2012.  You must be a registered Democrat or Republican to participate, but same day registration is available.

If we turn out in large enough numbers, we will be able to send delegates to participate in the national discussion.  These would be citizen delegates who represent the will of the people – not the lobbyists and industry puppet masters that infect the decision making of our politicians. 

This is a call to action to all of those proud Americans who are dissatisfied with the way our government manifests itself in the lives of the people.  If you’re in, visit http://www.occupyIAcaucus.org to learn more.