Poem from Here

O Sarasvati

peaceful goddess of eloquence and intelligence

help us speak the truth precisely in beautiful form

when words are spoken beautifully

there is already truth

when words match truth

there is already beauty

O Sarasvati

compassionate keeper of knowledge and wisdom

help us to learn and share learning with others

clear and graceful communication

is already compassionate action

the power of eloquence

already clears karma

O Sarasvati

eloquent and compassionate one

help us to hear and heed wisdom

in joyful hearing
there is already peace
in peaceful listening
there is already joy

from Twenty-six Companions: Celtic, Buddhist & Native Spirit Guides, © 2013 Sandy Eastoak

O Sitting Bull

great leader of your people
who knew the world of might and the world of spirit are the one world
lead us on the paths of the one world
lead us on the paths that reconnect the sacred hoop

where the voices of all peoples
sing justice and love and hope

O Sitting Bull

great leader in the lands of the dead
help us to make peace among

our red ancestors and our white ancestors

so that peace brings laughter to all people

living on our lands

so that all songs are respected

and joy is shared

O Sitting Bull

great leader of listeners to the many nations
give us ears to hear our animal and plant sisters and brothers

and sing harmony to all their songs

quiet our noise so our gentle heartbeats
make a rhythm in the great singing

so our voices blend
in the great song

from Twenty-six Companions: Celtic, Buddhist & Native Spirit Guides, © 2013 Sandy Eastoak

before


the dinosaurs were splendid & aware,
the loving elders of a younger earth.
did their extinction come without despair?

the hunters & the browsers all to share
the land’s abundance & its cyclic dearth—
the dinosaurs were splendid & aware.

velociraptors built with speed to spare,
the brontosaurus with tremendous girth—
did their extinction come without despair?

did not triceratops defend its lair?
did mating pterodactyls lack for mirth?
the dinosaurs were splendid & aware.

when disaster fell without repair,
& gave to unfamiliar species birth,
did their extinction come without despair?

risks of tipping points we now compare,
regretting our brutality to earth.
the dinosaurs were splendid & aware—
did their extinction come without despair?

REFUSAL


This world of wounds may need a savior now,
but he won't be the one - no taste for crowds,
or hollow shimmer of sudden acclaim -
he doesn't care how many know his name.

Last night's beseechers gone, he sits and broods -
let self-importants lead - he must follow
dawn sun up slow trajectory, oak trees
whose pacifism guides a mild wet breeze,
an ant, a beetle, work, swooping swallows,
and all the world that's not at war. Ignore
the dazzle of illusory esteem.

Greek wounds could heal but he thinks, at the core,
humanity's violent. As flowers sway,
better to just observe a slow new day.


- from Logician of the Wind, © 2012 Lee Slonimsky


Lee will be reading with me at Sebastopol Gallery, 150 North Main, on Saturday, September 28, 2 pm.

“Paashitham”


When I see photos of smiling faces
on walls or Facebook
I ask myself: What was the joke?


Smiling is a genuine gift
that people of a single mother posses.
Most photos that mimic this gift
are not ones after a good joke,
a ridiculous fall out of a chair,
out of the comfort of an infant,
or the love of a thousand moons.
They are ones after “cheese,”
a command, a fabric of happiness
with designs to proves its worth
without the wind to tell its story.


Where is the gift in a trick of the mouth
frozen in the burn of the camera’s flash?
What is known is the image alone,
the rest is a fairytale…

Maybe that’s why Tusanka Witco didn’t want his “shadow” taken.

He had foreseen something
in the camera and the Man behind it
that would change his Oglala people, and tribes like mine,
for the rest of their cultural lives.


The kind that changes fishermen into war chiefs, and war chiefs
into mascots.



San Martinez



Sal Martinez will be reading at Poetry Celebrating the Pomo Way at Coffee Catz on Sunday, October 27, 1-3 pm. This event is part of Pomo Honoring Month.

San Martinez is a proud member of the Manchester/Point Arena Band of Pomo Indians. He is a husband and a father to one son. His family currently resides in Modoc County, Alturas, CA. He works as a Security Guard at the Desert Rose Casino and has been an employee for five years. This poem first appeared in Misfit Magazine.

october evening


soft blush
of dirty air
as the sun drops
& cold swallows
the lingering fake
of summer

garden plants
cry for water
after hours of
dry, dry light
compelling
wilt

the rumble
of cars & trucks
disturbs the distance
that wants to be
all color
all hush



from Dark Love, © 2013 Sandy Eastoak

brigid’s day

bare branches thrashing in the wind,
winter willows clutch the sodden bank
of swollen creek.

they catch the feeble sunlight,
dance it brightly over supple twigs,
buds redden subtly in the cold.

this tiny color change is calendar
to watchful eyes, foretells the turning
when waxing warmth unfolds.

enjoy the bracing chill
& clear, delineated limbs
before impassioned leaves

devour the burning sky
& dusty sun comes yearning
for the shade.


from Rhymes with Pillow, © 2014 Sandy Eastoak

A book launch for Rhymes with Pillow is happening at Many Rivers Books, 130 South Main, Sebastopol, at 7:30 pm, Thursday, February 6.

What Light & Joyful Color you offer to a world in need of such.
Thank you.

the day


a day comes
when selfishness reeks
from every remembered wrong

in the middle of his life
russell means vowed
never again to pray for himself
but only for his people

has that day come for me

that day when the suffering of others
is more compelling than my own

when my role in trouble
means more than
their mistakes

when the sorrow, fear & damage
beneath their mistakes is a story
i hunger to love

what do i decide the day i notice
the mountain of my fault
rugged beside the hill of theirs

what do i choose the day grief
cracks my hide & their
hearts touch me



from Dark Love, © 2014 Sandy Eastoak

another for don


love without truth
isn’t love

truth without love
isn’t truth

where they coincide
is laughter

among the pious
is much love.
are they laughing?
no, they’re singing
hymns

among the existentialists
is much truth.
are they laughing?
no, they’re pulling their
grey collars close around
their skinny necks

on the mountains the zen monks
leap into the air
& click their heels.
their laughter rings
over the valley

there is no laziness
in truth or love.
without effort
they exert attention
to the lowly &
the high

attention takes the shape
of whatever stands before it
becoming truth
becoming love

becoming an inhabited
life

across my spindly tomato
in his plastic pot
drape powdery beaded strands
the aftermath
of oak sex

my petunia folds her red flower
into a browning memory
while her new bud
blushes

i’m hungry
—what’s for
breakfast


from ​Dark Love, © 2014 Sandy Eastoak

My friend Jim Wilson loves syllabic forms and has created one of his own: 100 Friends. Fifteen lines carry 100 syllables over 15 lines in this order: 2, 4, 2, 4, 6, 4, 6, 8, 6, 8, 10, 8, 10, 12, 10.

I've written a sequence of five of these: 500 friends for rain. Here's the first:


prayer


need rain.
how we need rain.
o rain!
o thunderbird!
bring us the big, big rain!
long days of rain
falling softly in mists,
pummeling loudly in torrents,
splattering in puddles,
noisily pouring in downspouts.
thunderbird, roar across our empty sky.
with wet shadow, darken our land.
empty your life-giving clouds full of rain—
first droplets, then trickles, then creeks to our rivers—
our soil, our groundwater—nourished, alive!

from Nuggets, © 2015 Sandy Eastoak

Here's the second of 500 friends for rain*:

confession

this drought,
a climate wound,
tells us
our foolishness,
our affluence must pass.
this way of life
is expressway to death
for 2 legs, 4 legs, wings & fins.
beat the drum. beat our chests.
wail for forgiveness. cry for rain.
fall on the ground & beg to be believed
when we pledge to stop these earth crimes.
no fracking. no tar sands. no endless goods.
no tilling. no poisons. no clear cuts. no excess.
we bend our lives to mend every species.

from Nuggets, © 2015 Sandy Eastoak

*My friend Jim Wilson created an original syllabic form: 100 Friends. Fifteen lines carry 100 syllables over 15 lines in this order: 2, 4, 2, 4, 6, 4, 6, 8, 6, 8, 10, 8, 10, 12, 10.

Here's the third of 500 friends for rain*:

sermon

mushrooms
are telling us
the pain
of long dry soil.
we pray mycelium
still thrives below.
the surface is barren.
a few shriveled caps rise to warn
that the wellspring of life
is depleted, near exhaustion.
engineers can measure our aquifers,
but fungi already witness.
we hear their quiet, ancient eloquence.
the water trees & crops & drinking creatures need
has drained from our land—worse, has been stolen.



from Nuggets, © 2015 Sandy Eastoak

*My friend Jim Wilson created an original syllabic form: 100 Friends. Fifteen lines carry 100 syllables over 15 lines in this order: 2, 4, 2, 4, 6, 4, 6, 8, 6, 8, 10, 8, 10, 12, 10.

Here's the fourth of 500 friends for rain*:


meditation

raining.
in our dreams it’s
raining.
we dream showers,
thunderstorms, & torrents.
even great floods.
or days of mist & fog.
long nights of pattering rooftops.
sleeping dreams or moments
of briefly lowered eyelids are
all the same—images of blessed rain.
the pleasure of peerless weather
cannot still the song of collective heart.
rain, sweet rain, life-bringing rain, come falling, come here.
every good dream is rain & rain & rain.



from Nuggets, © 2015 Sandy Eastoak

*My friend Jim Wilson created an original syllabic form: 100 Friends. Fifteen lines carry 100 syllables over 15 lines in this order: 2, 4, 2, 4, 6, 4, 6, 8, 6, 8, 10, 8, 10, 12, 10.

Here's the fifth of 500 friends for rain*:


blessing


go forth,
one family.
call rain
to the redwoods,
to gardens & pastures,
to chickadees,
to lupines & chickweed,
to boletas, weasels, & crows,
to sowbugs & spiders,
to ducks, salmon, cattails, willows,
to lizards, snails, petunias, butterflies,
to wisteria & finches,
to amanitas, grey squirrels, & rabbits.
every creature kin to us on this land calls rain.
rain for all, water for all, life for all.


from Nuggets, © 2015 Sandy Eastoak

*My friend Jim Wilson created an original syllabic form: 100 Friends. Fifteen lines carry 100 syllables over 15 lines in this order: 2, 4, 2, 4, 6, 4, 6, 8, 6, 8, 10, 8, 10, 12, 10.

The day I got this I saw my first California Sister (butterfly) of the year, looking for water. I'm looking forward to more treasures from you

Quote:

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Posted in reply to the post by sandoak:

Here's the fifth of 500 friends for rain*:


blessing


go forth,
one family.
call rain
to the redwoods,
to gardens & pastures,
to chickadees,
to lupines & chickweed,
to boletas, weasels, & crows,
to sowbugs & spiders,
to ducks, salmon, cattails, willows,
to lizards, snails, petunias, butterflies,
to wisteria & finches,
to amanitas, grey squirrels, & rabbits.
every creature kin to us on this land calls rain.
rain for all, water for all, life for all.


from Nuggets, © 2015 Sandy Eastoak

*My friend Jim Wilson created an original syllabic form: 100 Friends. Fifteen lines carry 100 syllables over 15 lines in this order: 2, 4, 2, 4, 6, 4, 6, 8, 6, 8, 10, 8, 10, 12, 10.

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