Kim Shuck

Purisima Conception

 

Carved wooden bell, mute in the campanario, the 
Bell, even then, 
Made the mission 

No mention of the uprising, occupation
Only gentle nods that the
First building was hauled up with Chumash help 

I surprise a lizard
Near the rebuilt kitchen
He hides under the Rosemary 

They are careful to hang the mirrors high 
Here by the old 
Schoolroom

 


 

Dolores

 

Unconsciously
I have stood in my window
Pitching curses down at
Mission Dolores 

Not my right to forgive
Mass graves
Forced labor camps- neither group
My ancestors 

Instead I
Withdraw my anger
Visit each and
Return that energy to myself 

Invent songs of de-cursing for these
Relics
Most going to dust as
Mud will without its water

 


Kim Shuck

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Laura Da’

Biography

Laura Da’ is a poet and public school teacher.  A lifetime resident of the Pacific Northwest, Da’ studied creative writing at the University of Washington and The Institute of American Indian Arts.  Da’ is an enrolled member of the Eastern Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma.  She has published poems in Prairie Schooner, Hanging Loose, The Iowa Review, and elsewhere.   Her first chapbook, The Tecumseh Motel, is  featured in Effigies II from Salt Press.  The University of Arizona Press will publish her first full-length manuscript, Tributaries, in 2015. Da’ lives near Seattle with her husband and son.

Chip Livingston

Could Be You

 

It’s a gray day, this breakfast of laughing down graves,
mom hung. This morning wreck of try the bacon, try 

the fired reunion of cider lungs. Could be you
at 17 preening. Could be you, blue frat boy, 

dug up and reburied. There were pages you heard
through the bedroom tantrum, a low cloud downstairs, 

a cloud spidering, a fall-around, knock-out drive.
Like when you moved to California, the still blond 

sticky lining, a man’s demented frustration
into slopes of blue. Terrible as every mad darkness, 

full sable desire, the headboard’s glad grimace,
the mirror in the hatband, let other instruments 

ground a family, the limits of mind tingling,
the slight nerve quiver steep in the knife chamber.

Double confusion gives rise to menace, a hundred shapes
endured, outstretching distrust, the clock’s iron wonder. 

Could be you one of those black boys missing.
Could be your jaw behind the shin bone. 

Dog-eared, those soul-felt lengths. The shadows
of your intervals have vaguely opened hands.

 


Chip Livingston

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Tiffany Midge

Biography

Tiffany Midge is the recipient of the Kenyon Review Earthworks Prize for Indigenous Poetry for The Woman Who Married a Bear (forthcoming) and the Diane Decorah Memorial Poetry Award for Outlaws, Renegades and Saints; Diary of a Mixed-up Halfbreed (Greenfield Review Press).  Her work has appeared in North American Review, The Raven Chronicles, Florida Review, South Dakota Review, Shenandoah, Poetry Northwest and the online journals No Tell Motel and Drunken Boat.  An enrolled Standing Rock Sioux, she holds an MFA from University of Idaho and lives in Moscow, Idaho (Nez Perce country).

 

Kim Shuck

Biography

Kim Shuck is a poet, bead artist, mom, player of video games and is easily distracted by odd facts. She is mostly of Tsalagi and Goral ancestry. Her first manuscript was about a mouse and was drawn in crayon without words before she started attending school, but her most recent books contain words. Clouds Running In is a full-length poetry manuscript and Sidewalk Ndn is a chapbook both published in 2014.

D. Gilson

“On Lake Rabun, Jesus Baptizes Peter”

 

On Lake Rabun, Jesus Baptizes Peter

 

Every invitation to white railing
flecked & peeling. The rough of feet
against dock, two naked boys

ought not run on planks
that rot & splinter with stray
two penny nails. I do not mind

you jumping first. Calling out, Follow.
I do not mind the slick of moss
in my hair, your dripping rope of snot.

& because the water will not clean
us, your kiss on my ear, the tease
of a brother, your arms that push

me, laughing, asunder.

 



“When My Father Speaks of His Past Life”

 

When My Father Speaks of His Past Life

 

Cueing from my father’s baseball cap,
United States Air Force Retired,
the waiter works for his tip, Thank you
for your service, sir. And my father 

lauds not the catfish before him, planked
and cornbreaded, but the fish
in Alabama, Let me tell you, nothing
beats those bayou catfish cabins

My father tells our waiter of his favorite,
Jack’s Shack, Fifteen miles south
of Mobile, where he met his wife,

not my mother, the story I have never 

heard (the one he would never tell me),
She played “House of the Rising Sun”
on the jukebox. I half-listen to them talk

about her. I half-listen, my mother’s son.

 


D. Gilson

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Jerry Brunoe

“Love Poem #28: Human Anatomy”

 

Love Poem #28: Human Anatomy  

for Robert Creeley      

 

I learned my body  
was bi​symmetrical  
before school:     

each eyelid kissed—
after the tuck,  
before goodnight.

 


 

 “Love Poem #51: An Emotional Response”

 

Love Poem #51: An Emotional Response

for Geffrey Davis

 

Geffrey, don’t feel lonely  
when your first book sells  
itself to the gentle minds  
of capricious readers and I  
am alone, with old wounds  
I never mentioned publicly,
scraping together bus fare  
to attend a reading of yours.

 


Jerry Brunoe

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Deborah A. Miranda

Biography

Deborah A. Miranda is an enrolled member of the Ohlone-Costanoan Esselen Nation of the Greater Monterey Bay Area, and author of the mixed-genre Bad Indians: A Tribal Memoir, two poetry collections (Indian Cartography and The Zen of La Llorona) and co-editor of Sovereign Erotics: An Anthology of Two Spirit Literature.  Currently Deborah is Professor of English at Washington and Lee University where she teaches creative writing and literature. Most recently, Deborah has been working on a collection of essays and a collection of poems in the voices of each California mission.