MAP #90



II. Featured Poetry Theme: I've Got Something On My Mind

1. Sher Khan... by Megan Howland

reach into me as i sleep in peace

instinct bears more for me

because it satisfies the lack in me,

2 months gone in the jungle of my senses

this fire's burning and there's no smoke to steer me

relay animal aggression to my limbs

my beating heart is no mystery

the savage world beats an air up around me

flesh and fire mesh in undulation

2 months gone in the jungle of my senses

this fire's burning

and there's no smoke to steer me

home.

It's a lack of taste for one's self becoming cannibal

look beyond the flesh; be witness to what you see in it

organic matter, vital flame, animation--

it's all the same

When I open up my soul so I can taste the core

I can feel no pain

inside the flame is something so precious

I want to devour it.

(Tyger, tyger

burning bright

in the forest of the night

what immortal hand or eye

could frame thy fearful symmetry?*)

It's gone from me

control of urges deep in me

to rip to rend

all of me

associated with humanity.

2 months gone in the jungle of my senses

this fire's burning and there's no smoke to steer me

as i prowled in stealth through the village

the pale face of the children reminded me

that Home is where the heart is

that Home is where the heart is

that Home is where the heart is

that Home

is blood.

It may be true

to be human

we must be animal.

*William Blake

© Megan Howland

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2. From Xennia Gittoes-Singh of So. Cal:

Trail of Tears

Tears on my heart, bloody feet, gaping holes in moccasins, legs like lead:

so tired



run us from our summer camps, past our winter camps, to other camps and

camps

around and over snow capped mountains, plunging valleys

into freezing waters, through deep forests; they tell us lies

lies, all lies we are never home

Oozing sores of grandmothers and grandfathers, babies can't cry; too

hungry

fearless warriors with empty eyes, helping slow walking, pregnant wives

Traveling, walking. Where are we going? Why can't we stay over here or

just over there

everyone is saying a different prayer. Our shamans had omen dream visions

alien men would come, our life as we had known it, was done

racing from our past, running over our ancestors

soaring to the endless, endless - trail

© 1998 Xennia Gittoes-Singh

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3. Canto 21: The Corridor (Excerpt) by Ted Reilly

There is no shame in a didactic poem, or in writing one,

But sooner or later, probably as soon as the ink dries,

There is only a scrap of paper with spiders' tracks

Running from one side to the other, a painting or sketch

In blue-black: It will take an eye to see and tongue to sing

The dance of signs down the corridor, one step at a time,

Moving between two known points, there and here,

The next half of the coming step already framed on his tongue:

Tune and beatinghand against the corridor and walls,

His body counting out the letters which make his name.

© 1999 EJReilly

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4. Kangaroo by David Barnes

i am Australia

land of bloodred sands

mountains wide open plains

Iiving my structured life

i blend unseen

forage for food

down nature's dream.

i have lived your brutality

i neither fear- nor hate

accuse or forgive

more wounded than ire.

your fumes rise

choking you continually

when you destroy yourself

who shall work?

in your glazed towers

live in your emptiness.

© 1999 deBarnes