Written in Anishinaabemowin and translated by Margaret O’Donnell Noodin Gigii-aadawaa’awimin zagapizoyang We have gone sailing untethered dibishkoo anangoog agoozowaad giizhigong like stars hung in the sky ishkwaa Naagaanizid-anang miinawaa Waaban-anang after Continue reading →
In Bingle Valley, broad and green, Where neither hut nor field is seen, Where bamboo, like a distant lawn, Is gold at dusk and flushed at dawn, Where rhododendron forests crown Continue reading →
Now the silverfish have eaten your sad dictionary. Once you stood behind the counter, ribbons in your hair, you measured and cut yardage for the buxom ladies. And now a pile Continue reading →
Surprise comes slowly to a redwood. So slowly we might think it remorse or grief or the color brown or the feeling of that which has not been done. Not dropped Continue reading →
We watch what we think is hesitance as its long legs enter the stream’s edge after a few moments we call forever, and even then, the movement deliberate, slow, what fear Continue reading →