Come Wewoka

Campfires Smolder

Campfires smolder
Growing cold as night
Enfolding the empty square,
Lost to this trail of tears -
My trail of tears.
Silently in the forest
A footfall tells they crept away
Into time’s bower,
Into tear’s brine,
Into the hearts of those who should know better,
Into my veins
Like a smoldering memory
To my campfire lit by those footfalls in the quiet wood
So many miles from home.

Rusted Flint

Rusted flint
Searing still in my heart stream,
But long since set aside.
Calling bird
Singing now a hollow song,
Telling of chicks new born,
And loves and fears heroes know,
Now smolder in the distant plains,
Burning with the forever-flint
With no bird to recall it to life
Except the dust crow who waits by my dying laughter
To mock me in my death.

City of the Cherokee

City of the Cherokee
Swept with autumn gold,
Alive with commerce gold,
Wares bought and wares sold;
And this great world was never-ending,
As we were jealous not to barter for our souls,
This great earth at our city’s heart.
Autumn gold covered ruddy loam -
Cotton’s loam -
Now, the curing loam of our sweet city
Cries out to the Unakas!
Come and take hold,
And take heart with pity!
Gone is our gold
Now Unakas’ cotton city.

Harvest Dances

Harvest dances,
Ghosts in the mountains
Near the Lover’s Leap.
How we wed the sky with our singing.
How we drank the corn wine with laughter.
But the Unakas say
We drink the sun no more
And make our wine with dust,
Dense as the mountains we haunt.
Now harvest dances are shadows on Unakas walls,
Mocking our laughter and corn-wine prayers -
Mocking the Cherokee in their keep -
Mocking the sacred Lover’s Leap.

The Children Laugh Playing Poleball

The children laugh
Playing poleball in the plaza,
Firing the life of the great city.
Wewoka found a bear’s claw -
Cosawta caught a starling -
But sewing and hunting ends
Games the worldly play.
Claws and Starlings fire the sun
Spilling new laughter on the plaza
And everyone plays poleball
In every stitch and shot.

We Sent our Best

We sent our best to flight
On the floor of Unakas’ court.
For we are the children of the sky
And the day was passing fair.
But our best failed
Not with the garbled lawless
But with the great white warrior,
Who eats our children
Spilling blood on the Unakas god
Who does not fear the sun.
So much blood upon the Unakas’ court.

Come Wewoka

Come Wewoka to my house
And join to me your nestling heart.
Take my gift of hominy
And to the sparrows tell your tale.
This be my troth -
Forever in this city fair
Cosawta gives as solid oak
His sunrise-sunset pledge.
Our bones together to the eagles go
As our oath takes wing.
So, come Wewoka
Takes with joy my simple words
And join.

The Hawk above the Heartland

The hawk above the heartland
Sees the world of all -
Knows he the way we came
And the way we go.
Now the ridge pole falls
And the saddled people flee -
Dance we to Unakas drum.
Give praise the hawk will never fail
Or fall to the whims of Unakas.

A Clear Trail This

A clear trail this -
See the blood of Chickasaw
And hail the sweat of Creek.
The Choctaw knew,
What Seminole tell
And now come we
The Cherokee
With city loves and hates
Into our deerskins poured
And weep along with our brethren
Upon this trail of tears.

A Log Burns

A log burns
Sending signals to the towns
That the city falls.
It folds away from the river bank
As if it never knew
The great Sun’s blessing.
Here old Littafulchee grew and thrives
And now she must wrap her old bones
Into a store-bought shawl
Gathering the grandchildren
And her warrior’s pride
Sending her signal to the towns
That the city follows the great Sun
Westward to set.

Little-Brother-of War

Little-Brother-of-War was played
Just as well with all
And the ball field left
Brave casualties in its wake.
Littered are the souls -
Spirited the game -
Yet, now our field is silence
Quiet rumination
While the Little-Brother-of-War
Laughs at us
Under the blue-coat’s whip.

Farewell Fields

Farewell fields -
Fields wheat -
Fields millet -
No longer will we scare the crows
Waving wands above the sea -
Sea wheat -
Sea millet -
Sweet elfin deer, good-bye.
You spoke with tenderness
The way we coil together
At the campfire’s sway.
Welcome blindness -
City blindness -
As we coil together in the smoke
Scared as crows
Beneath Unakas wand.

Broken is My Promise

Broken is my promise to you -
Sweet Wewoka of gray hair.
On Cosawta’s shoulder rest you
As we sway beneath the litter’s rough
In the dust of the pony’s sway.
Be consoled deer phantom wife
For your bones will lay to rest
In the bosom of our earth.
But, Cosawta flies away,
His bones wane in the unknown place -
In the broken-promise place,
In the dust of the pony’s sway.

Paint No More

Paint no more the children’s faces.
Shame has come to the hawk.
The woodland bears are laughing
As we pass as baggage to the plains.
Time after time this play is played,
Now to touch the Cherokee.
The hawk rewards no feather.
The roots yield not a healing
And the paint is dried -
No tear can resurrect it.

Hand with Spear

Hand with Spear
Clasped in hold
Silent hope watches the sunrise -
The pine land birds,
The siskins perch
While the wind seeks out a new home.
Spearhead spiked
Deep in earth
Broken flint left to tell
The wind’s silent hope.

Morning Carols

Morning carols its last note
In the first-foot-forward place
And the trail begins.
A million mornings
But none like this
Seared under gray skies -
Wrapped in a blue coat
And the ridge knows
Another cycle must prevail.

Every Turn of the Path

Every turn of the path
We knew -
Every tree and promontory -
The drinking stream -
The denizen’s
And the hut was not to be home.
Beneath the vault
The forest caused,
We dwelled in peace
With every tree and denizen -
Every drinking stream.
Now, what path is this -
Bloodied feet knows not.

In the Council

In the council of the twelve
The black suited warrior spoke -
Peace was said
And bread was broke
While the smoke was passed in reverence.
Cherokee honor.
Now, like seeds from storm swept grain
We scatter to the four corners.
Memory of honor
Spoke in the council by twelve

Unakas See!

Unakas see!
We are the children of the earth -
And yet, we plead.
When you bled with hunger,
We yielded up our care,
Mending your hearts and filling your souls
With the best part of me.
Now you steal my pine lands,
Transforming the bluffs to plains.
Now that we start our journey,
Will you let us bleed?
Unakas see!

The Rhythm of the Earth

The rhythm of the earth
The trail is spent in time -
Never forget,
Descendants of the earth!
The howling winds whisper -
The snow blown mother’s feet -
The old grandfather’s final cry.
The hawk weeps even for our relief
As we fall
To the rhythm of the gun -
The kick and stomp of ruthless men
This can never happen again?
Never forget!

What Enitachopco Saw

Enitachopco saw
The Unakas rape his mother’s heart.
He covered his face
As they covered her breasts
And one after one -
Time after time -
The civil stunned the heathen
Buck ass naked to the wind.
Then,
She laid,
Bayonet paid
And what Enitachopco saw
He would never forget.

They Burned the Old

They burned the old
As leaves well used
Because no food
Could pass their lip.
So, when Masakalpit fell
It was as a burned leaf,
Spreading his ashes
Upon a foreign plain.
Champion of the city,
Dead upon a foreign plain!

Do Not Worry

Do not worry
These men have hearts
For indeed, they are men.
When we reach the old grandfather stream
Food and blankets we will have
And the city will be again.
I saw a blue-coat
Carry on his back
My neighbor Malmanuka’s son
Whose leg was broke
And likely to die -
But no, these men have hearts
And all will end for the best.

Great Waters

Great waters of the old grandfather stream
Wash this warrior’s blood away
And make me a warrior once again.
My heart is in the mountains
Where pines and hawks
Sing praises of the wind and sun.
Tired and tried
I plunge across your balm tide,
So I may be a warrior once again.

The Great River

The great river flows
Testimony to time -
The trail flees -
Dust marks us all.
The hawk leaves a path
Over clouds and wind falls.
Be it my secret -
Then be it my dust -
Then be it my testament to time.

See the Spot

See the spot -
The shadowy spot
And remember this city of mine -
My people have fallen
By the hundreds -
By the thousands
Far away from their chosen spot
Into grave ignoble -
Mulch for earth -
Alien places -
People then -
Now just shadowy spots.

The Sunset on the Mountain

The sunset on the mountain
Calls to the wind and valley -
But the blameless land
Is awake and calls
To the Eastern gale
And some lone tree -
Some lone voice.
Purple skies meet the plains,
The winding trail
A serpent spread across the land
By hopeless men -
Weary souls -
Seeing the purple heavens,
But longing for the blameless land
Only the eastern gale knows.

Come Wewoka take this Root

Come Wewoka take this root -
Savor the spice between my hands
And the rain comes forth
Filling pots -
Skins are dried once again -
I will hunt the fowl once again,
And buffalo
As the ancients taught some how
And we will survive.

The Fire Burns Again

The fire burns again
Blaze rotting shit on these plains -
Not the sweet aroma of my home camps,
But the stench of buffalo waste ignited by the sun.
But we can boil again
And bake again,
Small band of my heart.
The Unakas are gone
And once again, the land is mine -
But the fires will never burn
The frost that’s in my heart.

Birch City

Birch city no more -
Farewell Chattanooga!
Skin town is now -
Hello Oklahoma!
The land weeds rove,
Like we rove -
The wind is unkind now -
It comes now and then in terror -
Unlike the gentle wind back home.
Corn porridge now!
Farewell sweet Hominy!

They Come Again

The come again
Unakas all!
In blue and gray -
Yet, do I call -
I like the gray
As the blue took my breath away.
My leaders stall
But find the smoke once more.
Again they come.
Great river, drown them all
In the red of blue and gray.

My Man

My man is gone a-hunting -
Baby sweet, nod far away -
Mama needs to pound the corn
And cannot hold you to her breasts.
Drift away to dreams -
Close your weary wondering -
And when the meal is fine
I’ll sing you the song of poleball
And when the hunter comes
He’ll tell you daring tales,
The Little-Brother-of-War.

Silhouette

Silhouette against the sky,
Not the hawk
But the gray warrior -
In the saddle wondering
Why he must be wandering
When happy in his woodland
The great Sun made him holy
Draped carcass,
Different meat against a different sky.

Black Funnel

Black funnel cloud
Ripping the town from earth -
Never before such sorrow -
Never before such famine -
Bellies swell -
The ears never ripen.
Heartless plains
With singing winds of hatred
Our women tear their hair in madness.
Now, the Black Funnel cloud comes -
And blows our skins away -
Not since the Unakas sword
Has their been such sorrow.

Dandelions Bloom

Dandelions bloom
Where once the daisy fared.
Am I forward looking
Or am I a back gazer?
But, at least, the star remain the same,
Only bigger in bigger clearings.
Same world
Before me time -
Behind me memory -
And a small tear to tell -
Never forget this trail of tears.

From the Place the Sun-King Comes

From the place the Sun-King comes
To where his throne will set,
Beyond my eye -
The heavy still fall beneath Unakas whip.
The woodland weeps,
The great river sadly flows and calls
Telling the hawk, we are gone -
Fallen like the leaves in autumn
With no hope to ever see Spring.

Hear the Drums

Hear the drums of the Cherokee,
Saying tales of peace-come-now
In this our new land -
A sparse land -
But a Cherokee land
Without Unakas hungry grip.
The drums say
Sparse lands are safe lands.
Rejoice in the dust of peace -
Free of uncivil whites.

Hear the Wagon Wheels

Hear the wagon wheels that rode
Over my new, dust land
Tearing all masks away.
And they grasp it away in a day,
A peace as sparse as the unyielding soil.
This is the punishment they mete
Because I sat with the men in gray
And smoked a pipe of peace one day.
Move us again and again and again -
Cimarron take any claim away
And suddenly, in my midst
Their cities sprawl
And my corn is trampled once again.

They Gave old Man Tokorei

The gave old man Tokorei
A blanket and a bottle.
The bottle made him warmer than the blanket -
But they also robbed him of him woman.
She would make him warmer still.
To Carlisle they sent his children,
To make him colder when they came to know him not.
But now, this desert sun in Arizona
Burns his skin warmest yet.
Thank the hawk he still has the warm bottle.

This Shack

This shack belongs to Mrs. O’Brien,
Squaw to Unaka Mike’s estate.
He died suddenly
Stopping a bullet’s speed,
And she, bereft of all but this shack,
Rewarded a generation of red O’Brien’s
With this shack -
An Oklahoman spread -
Rich in crude.
How many red O’Brien’s have sat
In judgment in the State House?
I’ve lost count.

Injun Sam

Injun Sam, the dealer man
Came from lands the Peyote knew,
But to the cavalry he bought and sold,
Laces and frillies and stuff.
But when the Lakota cut at fowl Custer,
Old Sam had not been able to convince the men
At his neck-tie party
That he, a Cherokee was indeed
A free and civil man -
Far from his chosen land.
Injun Sam swung for the Lakota.

Rodeo Comes

Rodeo comes
And out of moth balls
Comes the clown suit -
The honored feathers sewn
Tokens to old totems -
Meaningless to some -
Red stained by Unakas blood
And the remission of the Carlisle schools,
So only at Rodeos do these feathers have meaning.
My hawk weeps for me in the homeland.

Campfires Glow

Campfires glow in the gold fields -
Cherokees smile around Sawyer’s Mill,
For fortunes are to be made.
Wars are fought -
France is fame -
And the wheels of time
Scatter the faithful to the winds,
Far from Sawyer’s Bar -
Simple lives scatter -
No heritage -
No place to hold their head high -
But if you fall in France -
You can be called American.
So, simple lives scatter looking for the reason,
The pure and simple explanation,
Why they are not Americans,
‘though born in Sawyer’s Bar.

Campfires Glow Afar

Campfires glow.
The map is dotted by light -
Great grandmother tells
The story told by her father’s lip,
About the world Wewoka lost
And the love Cosawta kept
And how the great river -
Deeper than this Sacramento -
Called to the hawk -
And my grandfather hears these words
And never forgets.

A Fast Life

A Fast life, lost as grain,
Seeking to be an Unaka,
First one must prove
Without poleball or
The Little-Brother-of-War,
Worthy of the trust.
So, to France -
To the Ardennes -
A forest much like the lost -
Engage in the great Brother of War to end all wars.
Then, with a purple heart,
The privilege is bestowed
And you, with your fast life,
Are now an official Unaka.
Another hopeless lie.

Campfires Glow Again

Campfires glow
In different ports -
New England thoughts -
The Cherokee swirl as the funnel cloud,
From Sawyer’s Bar to Salem’s docks,
And though it’s small the glow
The campfires burn their still.

Mixing all the Nations

Mixing all the nations
In the veins that I am given
Give me pride -
And sets me tall.
And yet, I have this notion,
All the blue blood across the ocean
Cannot wipe from my remembrance
The saddened call I hear -
The hunter’s gone a-hunting
But when he comes, he’ll tell his tale
And I shall never forget.

Where Have We Flown

Where have we flown
Children of the earth
Outward from this history
Beyond our trail of tears.
Where do we bleed now?
Where do we end?
We who pump along both sad and lonely,
In a generation’s mind.
We still bleed
Moving Unakas to tears -
But only now -
For we are inside now -
And weep for ourselves through Unaka eyes.

Campfires Smolder

Campfires smolder
Forgiving not one conqueror.
Saving water -
Smoothing leaves.
Winter winds are passed and fading
And the Cherokee live again -
We go to business -
Dance at discos -
Join gay movements -
Eat at fast-foods-
Drive our Mazdas
Never doubting our inheritance.

Two Words

Two words my father taught me -
“A-da-gei-tli-di”
And “A-sgwo-lv-ni-ha”
His father had taught him them -
Who learned these from a woman,
Who sat in Sawyer’s Mill Town,
Who learned them from a hunter
As her mother pounded corn.
So, come to me Wewoka -
Come to your Cosawta
And I will teach you poleball
And two words for “love” and “war.”


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		Campfires Smolder Campfires smolder Growing cold as night Enfolding the empty square, Lost to this trail of tears - My trail of tears. Silently in the forest A footfall tells they crept away Into time’s bower, Into tear’s brine, Into the hearts of those who should know better, Into my veins Like a smoldering memory To my campfire lit by those footfalls in the quiet wood So many miles from home. Rusted Flint Rusted flint Searing still in my heart stream, But long since set aside. Calling bird Singing now a hollow song, Telling of chicks new born, And loves and fears heroes know, Now smolder in the distant plains, Burning with the forever-flint With no bird to recall it to life Except the dust crow who waits by my dying laughter To mock me in my death. City of the Cherokee City of the Cherokee Swept with autumn gold, Alive with commerce gold, Wares bought and wares sold; And this great world was never-ending, As we were jealous not to barter for our souls, This great earth at our city’s heart. Autumn gold covered ruddy loam - Cotton’s loam - Now, the curing loam of our sweet city Cries out to the Unakas! Come and take hold, And take heart with pity! Gone is our gold Now Unakas’ cotton city. Harvest Dances Harvest dances, Ghosts in the mountains Near the Lover’s Leap. How we wed the sky with our singing. How we drank the corn wine with laughter. But the Unakas say We drink the sun no more And make our wine with dust, Dense as the mountains we haunt. Now harvest dances are shadows on Unakas walls, Mocking our laughter and corn-wine prayers - Mocking the Cherokee in their keep - Mocking the sacred Lover’s Leap. The Children Laugh Playing Poleball The children laugh Playing poleball in the plaza, Firing the life of the great city. Wewoka found a bear’s claw - Cosawta caught a starling - But sewing and hunting ends Games the worldly play. Claws and Starlings fire the sun Spilling new laughter on the plaza And everyone plays poleball In every stitch and shot. We Sent our Best We sent our best to flight On the floor of Unakas’ court. For we are the children of the sky And the day was passing fair. But our best failed Not with the garbled lawless But with the great white warrior, Who eats our children Spilling blood on the Unakas god Who does not fear the sun. So much blood upon the Unakas’ court. Come Wewoka Come Wewoka to my house And join to me your nestling heart. Take my gift of hominy And to the sparrows tell your tale. This be my troth - Forever in this city fair Cosawta gives as solid oak His sunrise-sunset pledge. Our bones together to the eagles go As our oath takes wing. So, come Wewoka Takes with joy my simple words And join. The Hawk above the Heartland The hawk above the heartland Sees the world of all - Knows he the way we came And the way we go. Now the ridge pole falls And the saddled people flee - Dance we to Unakas drum. Give praise the hawk will never fail Or fall to the whims of Unakas. A Clear Trail This A clear trail this - See the blood of Chickasaw And hail the sweat of Creek. The Choctaw knew, What Seminole tell And now come we The Cherokee With city loves and hates Into our deerskins poured And weep along with our brethren Upon this trail of tears. A Log Burns A log burns Sending signals to the towns That the city falls. It folds away from the river bank As if it never knew The great Sun’s blessing. Here old Littafulchee grew and thrives And now she must wrap her old bones Into a store-bought shawl Gathering the grandchildren And her warrior’s pride Sending her signal to the towns That the city follows the great Sun Westward to set. Little-Brother-of War Little-Brother-of-War was played Just as well with all And the ball field left Brave casualties in its wake. Littered are the souls - Spirited the game - Yet, now our field is silence Quiet rumination While the Little-Brother-of-War Laughs at us Under the blue-coat’s whip. Farewell Fields Farewell fields - Fields wheat - Fields millet - No longer will we scare the crows Waving wands above the sea - Sea wheat - Sea millet - Sweet elfin deer, good-bye. You spoke with tenderness The way we coil together At the campfire’s sway. Welcome blindness - City blindness - As we coil together in the smoke Scared as crows Beneath Unakas wand. Broken is My Promise Broken is my promise to you - Sweet Wewoka of gray hair. On Cosawta’s shoulder rest you As we sway beneath the litter’s rough In the dust of the pony’s sway. Be consoled deer phantom wife For your bones will lay to rest In the bosom of our earth. But, Cosawta flies away, His bones wane in the unknown place - In the broken-promise place, In the dust of the pony’s sway. Paint No More Paint no more the children’s faces. Shame has come to the hawk. The woodland bears are laughing As we pass as baggage to the plains. Time after time this play is played, Now to touch the Cherokee. The hawk rewards no feather. The roots yield not a healing And the paint is dried - No tear can resurrect it. Hand with Spear Hand with Spear Clasped in hold Silent hope watches the sunrise - The pine land birds, The siskins perch While the wind seeks out a new home. Spearhead spiked Deep in earth Broken flint left to tell The wind’s silent hope. Morning Carols Morning carols its last note In the first-foot-forward place And the trail begins. A million mornings But none like this Seared under gray skies - Wrapped in a blue coat And the ridge knows Another cycle must prevail. Every Turn of the Path Every turn of the path We knew - Every tree and promontory - The drinking stream - The denizen’s And the hut was not to be home. Beneath the vault The forest caused, We dwelled in peace With every tree and denizen - Every drinking stream. Now, what path is this - Bloodied feet knows not. In the Council In the council of the twelve The black suited warrior spoke - Peace was said And bread was broke While the smoke was passed in reverence. Cherokee honor. Now, like seeds from storm swept grain We scatter to the four corners. Memory of honor Spoke in the council by twelve Unakas See! Unakas see! We are the children of the earth - And yet, we plead. When you bled with hunger, We yielded up our care, Mending your hearts and filling your souls With the best part of me. Now you steal my pine lands, Transforming the bluffs to plains. Now that we start our journey, Will you let us bleed? Unakas see! The Rhythm of the Earth The rhythm of the earth The trail is spent in time - Never forget, Descendants of the earth! The howling winds whisper - The snow blown mother’s feet - The old grandfather’s final cry. The hawk weeps even for our relief As we fall To the rhythm of the gun - The kick and stomp of ruthless men This can never happen again? Never forget! What Enitachopco Saw Enitachopco saw The Unakas rape his mother’s heart. He covered his face As they covered her breasts And one after one - Time after time - The civil stunned the heathen Buck ass naked to the wind. Then, She laid, Bayonet paid And what Enitachopco saw He would never forget. They Burned the Old They burned the old As leaves well used Because no food Could pass their lip. So, when Masakalpit fell It was as a burned leaf, Spreading his ashes Upon a foreign plain. Champion of the city, Dead upon a foreign plain! Do Not Worry Do not worry These men have hearts For indeed, they are men. When we reach the old grandfather stream Food and blankets we will have And the city will be again. I saw a blue-coat Carry on his back My neighbor Malmanuka’s son Whose leg was broke And likely to die - But no, these men have hearts And all will end for the best. Great Waters Great waters of the old grandfather stream Wash this warrior’s blood away And make me a warrior once again. My heart is in the mountains Where pines and hawks Sing praises of the wind and sun. Tired and tried I plunge across your balm tide, So I may be a warrior once again. The Great River The great river flows Testimony to time - The trail flees - Dust marks us all. The hawk leaves a path Over clouds and wind falls. Be it my secret - Then be it my dust - Then be it my testament to time. See the Spot See the spot - The shadowy spot And remember this city of mine - My people have fallen By the hundreds - By the thousands Far away from their chosen spot Into grave ignoble - Mulch for earth - Alien places - People then - Now just shadowy spots. The Sunset on the Mountain The sunset on the mountain Calls to the wind and valley - But the blameless land Is awake and calls To the Eastern gale And some lone tree - Some lone voice. Purple skies meet the plains, The winding trail A serpent spread across the land By hopeless men - Weary souls - Seeing the purple heavens, But longing for the blameless land Only the eastern gale knows. Come Wewoka take this Root Come Wewoka take this root - Savor the spice between my hands And the rain comes forth Filling pots - Skins are dried once again - I will hunt the fowl once again, And buffalo As the ancients taught some how And we will survive. The Fire Burns Again The fire burns again Blaze rotting shit on these plains - Not the sweet aroma of my home camps, But the stench of buffalo waste ignited by the sun. But we can boil again And bake again, Small band of my heart. The Unakas are gone And once again, the land is mine - But the fires will never burn The frost that’s in my heart. Birch City Birch city no more - Farewell Chattanooga! Skin town is now - Hello Oklahoma! The land weeds rove, Like we rove - The wind is unkind now - It comes now and then in terror - Unlike the gentle wind back home. Corn porridge now! Farewell sweet Hominy! They Come Again The come again Unakas all! In blue and gray - Yet, do I call - I like the gray As the blue took my breath away. My leaders stall But find the smoke once more. Again they come. Great river, drown them all In the red of blue and gray. My Man My man is gone a-hunting - Baby sweet, nod far away - Mama needs to pound the corn And cannot hold you to her breasts. Drift away to dreams - Close your weary wondering - And when the meal is fine I’ll sing you the song of poleball And when the hunter comes He’ll tell you daring tales, The Little-Brother-of-War. Silhouette Silhouette against the sky, Not the hawk But the gray warrior - In the saddle wondering Why he must be wandering When happy in his woodland The great Sun made him holy Draped carcass, Different meat against a different sky. Black Funnel Black funnel cloud Ripping the town from earth - Never before such sorrow - Never before such famine - Bellies swell - The ears never ripen. Heartless plains With singing winds of hatred Our women tear their hair in madness. Now, the Black Funnel cloud comes - And blows our skins away - Not since the Unakas sword Has their been such sorrow. Dandelions Bloom Dandelions bloom Where once the daisy fared. Am I forward looking Or am I a back gazer? But, at least, the star remain the same, Only bigger in bigger clearings. Same world Before me time - Behind me memory - And a small tear to tell - Never forget this trail of tears. From the Place the Sun-King Comes From the place the Sun-King comes To where his throne will set, Beyond my eye - The heavy still fall beneath Unakas whip. The woodland weeps, The great river sadly flows and calls Telling the hawk, we are gone - Fallen like the leaves in autumn With no hope to ever see Spring. Hear the Drums Hear the drums of the Cherokee, Saying tales of peace-come-now In this our new land - A sparse land - But a Cherokee land Without Unakas hungry grip. The drums say Sparse lands are safe lands. Rejoice in the dust of peace - Free of uncivil whites. Hear the Wagon Wheels Hear the wagon wheels that rode Over my new, dust land Tearing all masks away. And they grasp it away in a day, A peace as sparse as the unyielding soil. This is the punishment they mete Because I sat with the men in gray And smoked a pipe of peace one day. Move us again and again and again - Cimarron take any claim away And suddenly, in my midst Their cities sprawl And my corn is trampled once again. They Gave old Man Tokorei The gave old man Tokorei A blanket and a bottle. The bottle made him warmer than the blanket - But they also robbed him of him woman. She would make him warmer still. To Carlisle they sent his children, To make him colder when they came to know him not. But now, this desert sun in Arizona Burns his skin warmest yet. Thank the hawk he still has the warm bottle. This Shack This shack belongs to Mrs. O’Brien, Squaw to Unaka Mike’s estate. He died suddenly Stopping a bullet’s speed, And she, bereft of all but this shack, Rewarded a generation of red O’Brien’s With this shack - An Oklahoman spread - Rich in crude. How many red O’Brien’s have sat In judgment in the State House? I’ve lost count. Injun Sam Injun Sam, the dealer man Came from lands the Peyote knew, But to the cavalry he bought and sold, Laces and frillies and stuff. But when the Lakota cut at fowl Custer, Old Sam had not been able to convince the men At his neck-tie party That he, a Cherokee was indeed A free and civil man - Far from his chosen land. Injun Sam swung for the Lakota. Rodeo Comes Rodeo comes And out of moth balls Comes the clown suit - The honored feathers sewn Tokens to old totems - Meaningless to some - Red stained by Unakas blood And the remission of the Carlisle schools, So only at Rodeos do these feathers have meaning. My hawk weeps for me in the homeland. Campfires Glow Campfires glow in the gold fields - Cherokees smile around Sawyer’s Mill, For fortunes are to be made. Wars are fought - France is fame - And the wheels of time Scatter the faithful to the winds, Far from Sawyer’s Bar - Simple lives scatter - No heritage - No place to hold their head high - But if you fall in France - You can be called American. So, simple lives scatter looking for the reason, The pure and simple explanation, Why they are not Americans, ‘though born in Sawyer’s Bar. Campfires Glow Afar Campfires glow. The map is dotted by light - Great grandmother tells The story told by her father’s lip, About the world Wewoka lost And the love Cosawta kept And how the great river - Deeper than this Sacramento - Called to the hawk - And my grandfather hears these words And never forgets. A Fast Life A Fast life, lost as grain, Seeking to be an Unaka, First one must prove Without poleball or The Little-Brother-of-War, Worthy of the trust. So, to France - To the Ardennes - A forest much like the lost - Engage in the great Brother of War to end all wars. Then, with a purple heart, The privilege is bestowed And you, with your fast life, Are now an official Unaka. Another hopeless lie. Campfires Glow Again Campfires glow In different ports - New England thoughts - The Cherokee swirl as the funnel cloud, From Sawyer’s Bar to Salem’s docks, And though it’s small the glow The campfires burn their still. Mixing all the Nations Mixing all the nations In the veins that I am given Give me pride - And sets me tall. And yet, I have this notion, All the blue blood across the ocean Cannot wipe from my remembrance The saddened call I hear - The hunter’s gone a-hunting But when he comes, he’ll tell his tale And I shall never forget. Where Have We Flown Where have we flown Children of the earth Outward from this history Beyond our trail of tears. Where do we bleed now? Where do we end? We who pump along both sad and lonely, In a generation’s mind. We still bleed Moving Unakas to tears - But only now - For we are inside now - And weep for ourselves through Unaka eyes. Campfires Smolder Campfires smolder Forgiving not one conqueror. Saving water - Smoothing leaves. Winter winds are passed and fading And the Cherokee live again - We go to business - Dance at discos - Join gay movements - Eat at fast-foods- Drive our Mazdas Never doubting our inheritance. Two Words Two words my father taught me - “A-da-gei-tli-di” And “A-sgwo-lv-ni-ha” His father had taught him them - Who learned these from a woman, Who sat in Sawyer’s Mill Town, Who learned them from a hunter As her mother pounded corn. So, come to me Wewoka - Come to your Cosawta And I will teach you poleball And two words for “love” and “war.”