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love poem #506
shushwap love
with a smooth jawline
and startling green eyes
exotic enough
to be interesting
yet status for the future babies
he walked along
rude and arrogant
yet making me laugh out loud
head tossed back
chilling in sketchy five corners
smoking with drunks on the sidewalk
and learning story from the non-familial
the forgotten
the unwanted
history is history
and we aren't all elders
we ended up in an abandoned field
wildflowers brushing our knees
sunset kissing the mountain tops
and mist coming down to valley
he leans down
kisses my lips
giving me stories and lust
at dusk

shushwap love
west coast lust
whaa whaa

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For the Changing Moon



Real Indians, the shape-shifting kind, They’re gone
now, if they ever were more than Fantasy. And that’s the tragedy
those powers lost to us, look at us now
we’re not those people, we can’t do that, we’ve only got the stories.
Well, I’ve told a few myself, from time to time
and here’s one now: my father was a shape-shifter.
He was part of the Constitutional entrenchment of Metis as a People.


That might not count. You don’t think so? Maybe
you wanted to hear it like in conversations
late at night, all shivering round the table
some smoky old story about those people
who could turn into dogs, or bears, or flying beings.
No, I never saw him
walk as a bear, or a dog or in feathers and wings
but I saw him on TV, and what about that?


Disenfranchised Anishinabe, orphaned Mi’gmaq
church school survivor went working in the bush,
broke a leg and turned into a guitarist
singer, trainer, teacher,
army sergeant, farmer, trucker
taught himself house mover’s physics
and parliamentary procedure


On TV, we spied him by his hat
that one he always wore for meetings
ironically, a cowboy hat
Dad at the tables in Ottawa in 1982
committee committed, Metis Delegation
shifting the shape of our nation.


By The Numbers




pictures pinned
on a social media account
calling to account those who have for too long
turned away, silenced
the ones who knew all along
because we were the victim pool
later, the number is raised
to the possibility
4000 and more? too many to be sure


files the national broadcaster
obtained the rights to share
so that their names, faces, known
stories of them as people
might mean enough
for it to be enough
of impunity


years after the assigned date
of the resurrection
blamed for all these works
of conquest, works of war
2014 years until
the day of reckoning, one of many
that hopes to bleed the wounds
from hands and feet and tender sides
of our body politic
the crown of thorns
first nations suicides and poverty


steps we can take.


How far will we go?

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