For Randy


Moon music moved them together

across nights of bat-darkness

earth drummed by naked feet

that beats Nevada mountains,

high hills of Mohawk country.


Though old Medicine Men,

prodded by priest and politician,

no longer wear robes;

nor boys, geld and tender,

gather holy corn

nor are celebrated on the warpath

and taken in love by strong warriors…

they remain in lodges and languages

where the vision is honored,

and grandfathers know Nations will gather.


Moon music moved them together;

breechclouts left at the door,

straight firs… ponderosa to cedar…

naked, crossed in the star-burst of dawn:

bent, spent, broken in deep valleys.

The first frenzied dance finished.

Wovoka shook hands with Cornplanter.

Earth parts for the seed of their firs.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s