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The Alternate Poetry Movement

for Migratory Bird

... fly on


in the fireworks
of dill blooming
like roots of light

that shall never be seen again

seen once and always

sparrows with us

once and forever

--- Simon J Ortiz

the old pond

a frog jumps

the sound of water

--- Matsuo Basho

My House is the Red Earth

My house is the red earth;
it could be the centre of the world.
I've heard New York, Paris,
or Tokyo called the centre of the world,
but I say it is magnificently humble.
You could drive by and miss it.
Radio waves can obscure it.
Words cannot construct it,
for there are some sounds left
to sacred wordless form.

For instance, that fool crow,
picking through trash near the corral,
understands the centre of the world
as greasy scraps of fat.
Just ask him.
He doesn't have to say that the earth
has turned scarlet through fierce belief,
after centuries of heartbreak and laughter --
he perches on the blue bowl of the sky,
and laughs.

--- Joy Harjo