~feathers from the muse's wings~

Friday, August 01, 2008

a little poison blue

little poison blue
darting 'round nothing to do
no one will kiss you

© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

Thursday, July 31, 2008

she wore tiny golden bells,
the coyolli, round her
ankles so that when
she would hear them
sounding as she walked
she'd remember to hold
her head up to the sky and
smile for her son..give thanks
and ask the gods for blessings
for his safe return.

her son Metzli
was off planet, in the
war zone, yes, the war zone...
she used to shudder
when she thought of how young
he'd been when he'd first left home
to join the alliance's peace keeping force.
he was only seventeen then
and some thought he was already too
old, way past the age of leaving home
to carry out his duties for the alliance.
they believed he had been given special
treatment because he was the son
of an elder priest and Huixtocihuatl's only one.
Her husband has other wives and children but
their son is the first one, and was born special...

Metzli is also a priest, but
a warrior priest, that might be hard
to understand if you are not aware
of the Mexica culture, that used to be governed
solely by a warrior cult, now, all these millennia later,
it is headed by priests who seek the peace. Metzli had
to be given the necessary training to be able to
live in the hostile areas and venerate
all life at the same time,
to be a model of the new human.

a warrior priest does not intentionally kill,
only in self defense, and only in rare cases
after all other powers have been exhausted
to try and convince or subdue an adversary.
this has rarely happened in the years since the
blue children began to come into their own and
caused the fall of the last empire, with their
psychic powers.

the people living in the outworlds are those who fled
during the worst of the crisis, of the war and destruction
that followed as the empire sought to end the world instead
of allowing it to change. some of those who left earth
are still very damaged with the greed illness,
some are sympathizers with the old empire
and would like to have that old system back again.
but above all they are
life, beings whom we want
to co-exist peacefully with
and not harm.

she was told by her sisters not
to worry but rather to
imagine her son enveloped
in golden light - in a
protective egg of gold light -
gold like her bells...

© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Rainmaking

they prayed
rain would not come.
he piled hardwood high and sat
when flame’s tongues rose licking his feet
rains came

when full
moon wears an aura
children sing frog songs
calling along with village gifts
cloudbursts

science
thinking man's god
masters mother nature
seeding clouds with silver dry ice
rainfalls

warm clouds
supercooled
fooled formations circling
hitting a cold spoon in skyspace
crying

burning
body’s smoke
signals ancestors sending
winds against rain shadows sipping
skywater

to implore the rain venerate Chac
to implore the rain venerate Tlaloc
to implore the rain
dance
dance
dance

© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Fleurs de sel

accept this offering

of dried fish and birds

salted with bitter tears

I harvested.

your passing

did not turn grand

cities into crystallized seas

though your family still

feels the curse of another

disappeared before his time

but like the Mary Celeste

you’ve refused to go down.

we pour thin white lines

at the windows and doors

hoping to keep you at bay

some say it keeps you trapped inside

with us the living

conjuring more of the same.

no there is no blame for pouring

salt into our wounds we accepted

that sentence from the womb

as part of us being born yours

we came out briny

as if direct from the ooze

moody to the blues

like those storms at sea

that brew up quick

lashing at the shores

with towering tongues

of brackish water

© Odilia Galvan Rodriguez, 2008

Blues 9

Monday, July 21, 2008

prescription: drugs

part of the web of
life series

before the shining
glass beads dangled and
called bright the colored cloth and
hammered iron pots strung up alongside our
white shells the sugar and flour and whiskey flowed
down the ancestors throats
now the plastic money and
shiny fast cars
and foods
computers and the
latest flat screens blinking loud
with their lies called the news
a prescription:
drugs to numb the senses
to keep a people defenseless
entertained mindless
while we are traded like pelts
the land raped and stripped
like our warrior's scalps stretched
a nick for someone's belt
our children bent and stooped
in fields
carved by cruel knives
clearing ancient trees
whose roots talked
and told the crops to grow
to cover up the crime of all time
sown in our people's blood that
flowed in rivers across the burnt land
fertilizing bitter the fruit
poisoned by greed but heeding
the call to survive we eat while
these people force feed us
their trinkets

©/Odilia Galvan Rodriguez, 2008

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Mama Luna

Grandma Luna would hold my hand
all the way home from school
when we'd pass through the lush
green forest she would say esto es el corazon
del mundo/this is the heart of the
world she taught me the earth ways
about the trees that talk if you listen
of the plants who are our allies
who heal us and the creation when
we are ill

in the forests and in the jungles
we can find the answers
all the remedios for what ails us
physically mentally and spiritually
but we must be humble for what stunts
the spiritual guerriller@'s growth is pride
and all that comes with self aggrandizement
greed is worst of all but what did I know
at seven about greed

Mama Luna was a slight women barely five feet
tall and less than ninety pounds but she was strong
the people of the surrounding ranches feared and adored her
some called her bruja/witch out of ignorance or what the
church teaches which is mixed up with fear of people taking
their own power and not being afraid to live fully lest
they die

she would say there is no devil only evil people
who hurt and want others to hurt as much or worse
those are the ones we must watch out for and they
are sly as foxes people who smile in your face
the worst enemies are usually old friends remember that
child and I would but my good heart would make
me go soft so often and that is where the hard lessons
would have to be learned again and again

Mama Luna was the first person people would come and find
when a baby was about to be born or someone was sick even
when a colt or calf was trying to be born turned in the
wrong direction she could set bones and massage sprains
she even put people's brains straight by counseling them
in low hushed tones soothing their madness

she taught me about the plant allies how one must sing
to them and leave offerings while asking for permission
to take some of them back home to help heal ourselves or
others plants want respect
as does the whole creation we must only take what we need
and more is not better the essence is sacred

she loved wild horses her prized bees that gave sweet
honey because she sung to them too her dogs where good
they knew who to let on the property and who to hold
at the gates her black dog Oso was the fiercest of all
the one who was always with her

Mama Luna you guide my hands as I write these words
I miss you and at the same time know you are in my
heart ~ siempre...

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Graffiti

for Hawk

He was seven then
when we visited South Dakota
together for the very first time
he had been on planes before
but on this trip he realized
it might be a dangerous
ride

that despite his name
people really couldn't fly
and what goes up eventually
must come down and we were
up very high as he noticed
while asking nervously
if those were clouds
below us as he stared out the
plane's window but that worry
passed quickly he was more
concerned with finding Michaelangelo
his teenage mutant ninja turtle
that he hadn't seen since we'd
had a bite to eat in the airport
cafe

he asked me again if I thought there
would be graffiti in the town we were
going I said there probably wasn't too much
on the rez but maybe some in
Rapid City we would be staying there for a day
or two before going on to the Sun Dance
he said he wanted to see what kind
of graffiti, they had in other towns
besides Berkeley and Oakland

Michaelangelo mysteriously turned up
in the trunk of the rental car as we were
taking out our bags at the motel
he kept looking around for the writing on walls
of that cowboy city but I couldn't spot any either

that night as we were reading a bedtime story
he stopped and asked mom do you think there
is no graffiti because there are mostly old people
living here and I said no I think it's probably
because they have strict laws against it and
young people are scared of what will happen
if they are caught doing it

he looked at me confused as if street art were the
most natural thing in the world and why would
anyone be punished for expressing themselves
in this way and then said they would go to jail
I said yes I think so

the next morning we visited a few shops and
the local amusement park with a Flinstone theme
in the afternoon we were scheduled to visit Mount
Rushmore so at lunch I explained about the
The Black Hills and how sacred they are to the Lakota
people and how we should take the camera because
we might see some eagles on the way he fell asleep
and I kept feeling like there was something I had
forgotten to say about our trip and I worried about
him being so small with just me to be everything to him
he woke up just as we pulled into the parking lot
at Mount Rushmore, he was still a little sleepy as we
walked along to get up to the place where one views
the monument. He held my hand tight and I said
look there, that's what they did to the Black Hills
he looked and looked and was very quiet
I thought he must still be very sleepy from his
nap

he suddenly pulled me close looked up at me and
said in a solemn voice, "mom, mom those are the Black Hills"
and pointing at the monument he said,
"that is the white man's graffiti".

©/s Odilia Galvan Rodriguez, 2008

Sunday, April 27, 2008

The Sun's Going Down on the West

the best part
of falling down
is getting back up
or catching that branch
right before sliding fast
all the way down
the hillside
and who knew that
jazz could flood one
with such emotion
that afterward you'd
know the song flew
much too fast
those steel brushes
against the skin
of the drums
still making that cool sound
in your head
makes one humble
music does
and if you don't care
about Jerusalem
or think much
about its history
or believe its name
means legacy of peace
or that it's a good inheritance
something to hold onto
like hope the sun
is going down
on the west
a golden
blood orange

©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

incisor sized insomnia...

she embraced sharp teeth
of her sleep hoping to dream
bit into nightmares

©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

forbidden fruit

there's moonshine next time
tonight there's dandelion wine
fine like bathtub gin

during prohibition
best love was made in the kitchen

©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

Mood Indigo

mood indigo blues
she sees through her third eye
believes no deceit

©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

Winged Divinity

Friday, April 25, 2008

Our Graphemes

Thursday, April 24, 2008

breaking glass is a blast

glass shards shattered
colors crushed in a corner
sans sharp martinis

© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

photo © cesare ghttps://www.flickr.com/photos/cesare_photos/7912999/

history repeating itself

colored
glass from a past.
reflects a history
that repeats itself. forgetting
future

© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2008

original photo is © http://www.flickr.com/photos/wheatfields/548938688/