birth of this poet
by t. zoEy benally
1998, i was rear-ended by a pumpkin volvo 1977, counter-clockwise into a ditch
smeared bumper, mangled long bed, broken back window and the new
driver side rear tire of our brown 1979-80-82 Ford F-150 shredded
temporal lobe traumatized, neuron chaos ensued
day after morning, anonymous to myself, no one, a stranger
human being in a bed, regarding window frame silhouette
creep up pastel plastered wall, no previous shadow memories to compare
placid sheets, Speed Queen bouquets, stretch muscles, turn over and back to sleep
sepia film strips played, projected to the screen at optic nerve end
chronicled yesterday activities of three females, 28, 15, and 2
it started at 4AM with a metal trailer door knock, we boarded the brown truck
in Bayfield there was that doe, risked her life, leapt in front, third messenger
a bird in Beclabito was messenger two, ogling me from long, high windows
Red Valley coyote, messenger numero uno, ignored for my friend Lewis
one last chat, only jolts of nitroglycerin kept his striated cardiac muscles sliding
vessels relaxed so blood gush pumped from chamber to chamber continues
film cropped, edited to the final fourth warning, two vehicle slammed together
loud clap of fiberglass, metal on Colfax and Pearl, pause then scurry away
reflector crumbs left behind, crop to three females in a brown truck--LOST
parked at a payphone, buying a liter of orange juice for the toddler in carseat
the film ends here, broken, reel spins, film fish tail, slaps, flaps, flicks
melon hollow whack of my skull, no head rest engineered to cradle
bone on metal, grey matter on bone, capillaries burst, neuron arms
and fingers stretch, mozzarella, until they reach snapping point
math super powers lost, my new identity as a mere mortal more apparent
with each reopening of my eyelids, no longer able to recognize number faces
the taste, touch and smell of numbers eliminated, memorization impossible
and in it's place, repeated verses, droned, keep me awake until i download
scribble verses on a paper scrap, receipt, with a cheap Bic pen, eyes covered by dark
deals with the devil, make me fly
take these ridiculous, futuristic, wooden wings
wings that make me crash & yearn for lightness
give me wings of metallic vapor
flailing through the atmosphere
ruddy face, germless gut, fuming at the mouth
5.18.2005
5.09.2005
plants, mines and me
by t. zoEy benally
nineteen-sixty-one, only one of my best friends was born
but she was too young to attend, not connected enough
to receive an invitation to the ground breaking, spray painted gold
shovels pushed into sandy earth with hogback looming across the river
wonder which politicians pushed that spade with their cowboy boot?
promised jobs, money to help us evolve to the 5th world
i remember in Kindergarten, 1975, remember at career day
i snuck away from the nurse and secretary exhibits long enough to hear
secrets told to the boys about scrubbers & bag houses to clean clouds
whiten steam billowed out of tall black stacks, hidden ships
trying to wend their way away from Navajos, coffers packed with coal
carefully dug from around graves, silent protesters ignored
she lived at east low rent, was able to afford tiled floors, sidewalks
a roof that didn't leak, she had no weeds to pull, squash bugs to pick
from the undersides of large dark triangular leaves, eggs to smash
i have to admit i never saw her push-start her family's vehicle, and
she always had nice shoes, never had to patch with tire patches
sole holes, her dad worked at the power plant, an electrician maybe
i'm not sure when it started, but it would wash away with strong rains
then gradually would build up again, stretch it's scrawny fingers
across the skies, fondle the southern skies, rub the western horizon
drum finger tips north to Ute Mountain, dangle it's dirty nails above the sunrise
my uncle said that the beautiful pink sunsets were actually a by-product
resulted from polluted air rising up from the deceptively pure emissions
i took my hard hat the first time i visited, not really a tour, a survey
part of my job, look at the water, 0.05 microns of conductivity, so empty
they had to add catfish water back in for humans to drink, and avoid cell lysis
those clouds were still white, but black soot rained down, flooded,
covered faces, shoulders, sidewalks that i walked across, i inhaled a good
lungful of fine dark particles, stolen coal burned making it's way back to me
by t. zoEy benally
nineteen-sixty-one, only one of my best friends was born
but she was too young to attend, not connected enough
to receive an invitation to the ground breaking, spray painted gold
shovels pushed into sandy earth with hogback looming across the river
wonder which politicians pushed that spade with their cowboy boot?
promised jobs, money to help us evolve to the 5th world
i remember in Kindergarten, 1975, remember at career day
i snuck away from the nurse and secretary exhibits long enough to hear
secrets told to the boys about scrubbers & bag houses to clean clouds
whiten steam billowed out of tall black stacks, hidden ships
trying to wend their way away from Navajos, coffers packed with coal
carefully dug from around graves, silent protesters ignored
she lived at east low rent, was able to afford tiled floors, sidewalks
a roof that didn't leak, she had no weeds to pull, squash bugs to pick
from the undersides of large dark triangular leaves, eggs to smash
i have to admit i never saw her push-start her family's vehicle, and
she always had nice shoes, never had to patch with tire patches
sole holes, her dad worked at the power plant, an electrician maybe
i'm not sure when it started, but it would wash away with strong rains
then gradually would build up again, stretch it's scrawny fingers
across the skies, fondle the southern skies, rub the western horizon
drum finger tips north to Ute Mountain, dangle it's dirty nails above the sunrise
my uncle said that the beautiful pink sunsets were actually a by-product
resulted from polluted air rising up from the deceptively pure emissions
i took my hard hat the first time i visited, not really a tour, a survey
part of my job, look at the water, 0.05 microns of conductivity, so empty
they had to add catfish water back in for humans to drink, and avoid cell lysis
those clouds were still white, but black soot rained down, flooded,
covered faces, shoulders, sidewalks that i walked across, i inhaled a good
lungful of fine dark particles, stolen coal burned making it's way back to me
4.28.2005
pink eye revolution
by t. zoEy benally
deadly pink eye, i knew it was bad when she put on gloves
normally i watch to see if the docs even pause at the sink and soap
ignored, yellow sign placed at doc eye-level, wash your hands
yesterday it started, but i trace it's origins back to saturday
putting too much of me into the dead dog poem in Telluride
small itch progressed to burning redness, and flood of puss
it would be easy to start a pink eye outbreak, be the point source
a fondled dollar, imbued with gooby eye bacteria, spent here, there
hands contaminated with simpler organisms, bent on survival
pink eye bacteria, smeared on all the P.O. Boxes, counters
shaken onto hands, smeared onto doorknobs, handles, tools
don't touch your eyes! wash your hands! pink eye was here...
today a glob of medication is smeared into pink eye, and fellow eye
the alien beings slowly release their tentacles from my sclera, rhymes with
Sara, Tara, bo-Bear-a, banana-fana, fo-Farrah fee-fi-Mo-Mara, sclera
by t. zoEy benally
deadly pink eye, i knew it was bad when she put on gloves
normally i watch to see if the docs even pause at the sink and soap
ignored, yellow sign placed at doc eye-level, wash your hands
yesterday it started, but i trace it's origins back to saturday
putting too much of me into the dead dog poem in Telluride
small itch progressed to burning redness, and flood of puss
it would be easy to start a pink eye outbreak, be the point source
a fondled dollar, imbued with gooby eye bacteria, spent here, there
hands contaminated with simpler organisms, bent on survival
pink eye bacteria, smeared on all the P.O. Boxes, counters
shaken onto hands, smeared onto doorknobs, handles, tools
don't touch your eyes! wash your hands! pink eye was here...
today a glob of medication is smeared into pink eye, and fellow eye
the alien beings slowly release their tentacles from my sclera, rhymes with
Sara, Tara, bo-Bear-a, banana-fana, fo-Farrah fee-fi-Mo-Mara, sclera
4.25.2005
one word: iron
by t. zoEy benally
red sand stains on your white tube socks
gallons of chlorox bleach will never fade
iron flakes oxidized, rusting in the knit of your heels.
by t. zoEy benally
red sand stains on your white tube socks
gallons of chlorox bleach will never fade
iron flakes oxidized, rusting in the knit of your heels.
4.10.2005
one word: courage
by t. zoEy benally
courage the colour of cougars
tawny yellow that blends with sand
beneath trees, behind bushes,
around fibrous legs of grass
that lick the air before it reaches the sky
by t. zoEy benally
courage the colour of cougars
tawny yellow that blends with sand
beneath trees, behind bushes,
around fibrous legs of grass
that lick the air before it reaches the sky
4.06.2005
JLow's Fur Farm
by t. zoEy benally
she was tired of all the criticism, the picture of her bling-bling next to a fox
electric probe in it's mouth and anus, soon to be denuded, fur peeled off
she tore a corner off the flexible plastic wrap of her Snicker, and pulled it down
rolled down like a sock, white surface exposed, square brown log revealed
she sunk her even white teeth through chocolate, nouget & peanuts
daintily wiped a chocolate smear from her lower lip with a dry, linty tissue
it was the last thing she had to do, before sliding between cream satin sheets
Jennifer glanced the time, 8:30, she better go now before they started rattling their bowls
she grabbed the forest green bucket on the floor, opened the back door
the faucet was dripping again, where did she put those rubber washers?
she turned the knob till water hissed and swirled, quickly filling the bucket
she grabbed the handle taking care not to catch her nail, she was out of nail glue
she held onto the abrupt handle end and dragged slowly towards the door
she discovered that a hoe worked best for cleaning, she cut the handle
so it was easier to maneuver and scrape scat from the corners, out the cage door
she had learned not to worry too much about the yellow urine crust, squares closed
they all peed into a common corner, at first she though the urine would rain
down through the cage stack and stain the fur of the lower rung minks
they were getting really big, for a second she thought back to when they were little
small footfalls vibrating the metal cells, they had gotten sleek, mercury movements
they paced back and forth, heads bobbing in recognition, they smelled food
she opened their cage doors, one by one, scooping a cupful of food into metal bowls
the sun was just coming over the concrete wall, soon her nocturnal army of mink would be asleep
she watched them chow the fish, fruit, and grain mixture, she had to be on the set soon
the blue tarp crunched and slid a little as she walked across, she put the knives down
next to the 5-gallon bucket, she looked over her set-up, plastic covered tables
one for the carcasses, one for the pelts, bucket to catch blood, sharpened knives, gloves
she had hired two guys to help process the meat and skins, but she wanted to do the killing
she wanted to peel their skins down, imagine pieces of her jacket, mentally sew it together
she pulled an animal out of the first cage, carried it to the bucket, and got ready to slit it's throat
by t. zoEy benally
she was tired of all the criticism, the picture of her bling-bling next to a fox
electric probe in it's mouth and anus, soon to be denuded, fur peeled off
she tore a corner off the flexible plastic wrap of her Snicker, and pulled it down
rolled down like a sock, white surface exposed, square brown log revealed
she sunk her even white teeth through chocolate, nouget & peanuts
daintily wiped a chocolate smear from her lower lip with a dry, linty tissue
it was the last thing she had to do, before sliding between cream satin sheets
Jennifer glanced the time, 8:30, she better go now before they started rattling their bowls
she grabbed the forest green bucket on the floor, opened the back door
the faucet was dripping again, where did she put those rubber washers?
she turned the knob till water hissed and swirled, quickly filling the bucket
she grabbed the handle taking care not to catch her nail, she was out of nail glue
she held onto the abrupt handle end and dragged slowly towards the door
she discovered that a hoe worked best for cleaning, she cut the handle
so it was easier to maneuver and scrape scat from the corners, out the cage door
she had learned not to worry too much about the yellow urine crust, squares closed
they all peed into a common corner, at first she though the urine would rain
down through the cage stack and stain the fur of the lower rung minks
they were getting really big, for a second she thought back to when they were little
small footfalls vibrating the metal cells, they had gotten sleek, mercury movements
they paced back and forth, heads bobbing in recognition, they smelled food
she opened their cage doors, one by one, scooping a cupful of food into metal bowls
the sun was just coming over the concrete wall, soon her nocturnal army of mink would be asleep
she watched them chow the fish, fruit, and grain mixture, she had to be on the set soon
the blue tarp crunched and slid a little as she walked across, she put the knives down
next to the 5-gallon bucket, she looked over her set-up, plastic covered tables
one for the carcasses, one for the pelts, bucket to catch blood, sharpened knives, gloves
she had hired two guys to help process the meat and skins, but she wanted to do the killing
she wanted to peel their skins down, imagine pieces of her jacket, mentally sew it together
she pulled an animal out of the first cage, carried it to the bucket, and got ready to slit it's throat
3.27.2005
living every-man's nightmare?
by t. zoEy benally
three-thousand-five-hundred-sixty-two-dollars and fifty cents
for a metal detector, to pick out criminals in a lined up crowd
catch them at the door, comb out blood cells from plasma
at least until your comb clogs, infested with plague bacteria
and you can no longer swallow, digest, and begin to starve
begin to regurgitate disease back into the world
the sun was out in Scottsdale last week on Loop 101
elevated lanes flying over urbanization stamps, strip malls
plazas, shopping centers, identical houses with half baths
contractors pretend they don't covet, peripherally peek, Salt and Gila River
the city bulges against invisible lines, perhaps biochemical
US government laid down centuries ago, when all this was worthless
economic development is their new game, our new reality
defined by the televis-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-sion, you need what we have
don't you know? Navajos don't want one room hogans, muddy shoes
Navajos want Crownpoint in-situ uranium mining, Burnham power plant
bringing jobs, 49% controlling stock, but only after four years of
foreign control, deceptively white clouds plumed over Sanostee
this place never changes, to the unobservant eye, the same dust
they don't notice, different shades of lipstick smeared on empty 40s
don't notice the water is flavored with songs of Uranium daughters
they ignore the little girl studying every day for her trip east
miss the people planning, organizing, gathering forces of change
to save sacred mountains from manufactured sewage snow
by t. zoEy benally
three-thousand-five-hundred-sixty-two-dollars and fifty cents
for a metal detector, to pick out criminals in a lined up crowd
catch them at the door, comb out blood cells from plasma
at least until your comb clogs, infested with plague bacteria
and you can no longer swallow, digest, and begin to starve
begin to regurgitate disease back into the world
the sun was out in Scottsdale last week on Loop 101
elevated lanes flying over urbanization stamps, strip malls
plazas, shopping centers, identical houses with half baths
contractors pretend they don't covet, peripherally peek, Salt and Gila River
the city bulges against invisible lines, perhaps biochemical
US government laid down centuries ago, when all this was worthless
economic development is their new game, our new reality
defined by the televis-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-sion, you need what we have
don't you know? Navajos don't want one room hogans, muddy shoes
Navajos want Crownpoint in-situ uranium mining, Burnham power plant
bringing jobs, 49% controlling stock, but only after four years of
foreign control, deceptively white clouds plumed over Sanostee
this place never changes, to the unobservant eye, the same dust
they don't notice, different shades of lipstick smeared on empty 40s
don't notice the water is flavored with songs of Uranium daughters
they ignore the little girl studying every day for her trip east
miss the people planning, organizing, gathering forces of change
to save sacred mountains from manufactured sewage snow
3.15.2005
Methuselah Would Know
by t. zoEy benally
the question, page corner torn off and chewed, mashed down
to a pulp pea, not really the same as gum, potential spit wad
--would Dine' from six hundred years ago know us as Dine'?
if we were some how able to cipher the molecules of reality
travel to six hundred years ago, would my clan even exist?
Naneesht'eezhi Taachiinii, one of two sisters from another tribe
six hundred years would be nothing for Methuselah
coiled on dolomite White Mountain slopes, 4,767 years of icy wind
yes there are rocks older, i know, but a tree, new cells, it's different
would communication even be possible with a 1405 Dine'?
or would we be counted as "those that we fight with," bilighaana
our 2005 tongues fattened, dulled by potatoes, mutton, flour, sugar
would they see the chaos, glittering in our eyes, unsymmetric existence
would we see a different definition of harmony? balance on another plane
un-white washed by noble savage incarnations, Hollywood tea seeped in
what would they say about the discarded diaper that still sits along
the south fence of the fairgrounds? would we be easy game, DNA
readily accessible to their yang, ancient biologic warfare kung-fu?
Methuselah, Pinus longaeva, sequestered in plain site, would know
results of this encounter, a tree who has felt millennia borne on frigid winds
Methuselah, only, would be qualified to choose
an appropriate representative to make this journey
thanks Nate for the inspiration. Nate-->muse for a day. thanks for an answer to this question that has been bouncing around in my brain for some time. z
by t. zoEy benally
the question, page corner torn off and chewed, mashed down
to a pulp pea, not really the same as gum, potential spit wad
--would Dine' from six hundred years ago know us as Dine'?
if we were some how able to cipher the molecules of reality
travel to six hundred years ago, would my clan even exist?
Naneesht'eezhi Taachiinii, one of two sisters from another tribe
six hundred years would be nothing for Methuselah
coiled on dolomite White Mountain slopes, 4,767 years of icy wind
yes there are rocks older, i know, but a tree, new cells, it's different
would communication even be possible with a 1405 Dine'?
or would we be counted as "those that we fight with," bilighaana
our 2005 tongues fattened, dulled by potatoes, mutton, flour, sugar
would they see the chaos, glittering in our eyes, unsymmetric existence
would we see a different definition of harmony? balance on another plane
un-white washed by noble savage incarnations, Hollywood tea seeped in
what would they say about the discarded diaper that still sits along
the south fence of the fairgrounds? would we be easy game, DNA
readily accessible to their yang, ancient biologic warfare kung-fu?
Methuselah, Pinus longaeva, sequestered in plain site, would know
results of this encounter, a tree who has felt millennia borne on frigid winds
Methuselah, only, would be qualified to choose
an appropriate representative to make this journey
thanks Nate for the inspiration. Nate-->muse for a day. thanks for an answer to this question that has been bouncing around in my brain for some time. z
3.13.2005
one word: interior
by t. zoEy benally
tan fire feeding walls, filled with styrofoam and cotton candy fiberglass
floors slathered with pumpkin carpet that preceeded the avent of harvest
only saving grace is that it's finger hooks are 1/8th inch, no where near shag
top it all off with petroleum based, explosive white plastic, massive fire ball fodder
this is the interior of the trailer that i live in
by t. zoEy benally
tan fire feeding walls, filled with styrofoam and cotton candy fiberglass
floors slathered with pumpkin carpet that preceeded the avent of harvest
only saving grace is that it's finger hooks are 1/8th inch, no where near shag
top it all off with petroleum based, explosive white plastic, massive fire ball fodder
this is the interior of the trailer that i live in
3.05.2005
7 miles from Cortez
by t. zoEy benally
seven miles from Cortez we spiral, curve along fingerprints
black rubber smooches black asphalt, decomposed eons
different forms of prehistoric molecules touch, spark memories
extinct volcanoes, elemental times, penetrating gas, vapors, metals
salts & all powerful gravity still tethering creatures to earth
seven miles from Cortez is the juniper, cedar & pine
gateway back to another time, younger than highway
atoms, not as ancient as oil and hydrocarbons
igneous rock cooled enough to be handled by symbiotic
communities, humans, shaped into blocks, walls, wide homes
seven miles from Cortez, to the south and seven generations
fast forward to when pit bulls and rotteys fill Navajo corrals
how long until butchered dog swings by one leg from the tree?
Naahwiilbiihi has slipped from his prison in our minds, and again
owns whole families, slaves, who insist that yes and no both mean yes
by t. zoEy benally
seven miles from Cortez we spiral, curve along fingerprints
black rubber smooches black asphalt, decomposed eons
different forms of prehistoric molecules touch, spark memories
extinct volcanoes, elemental times, penetrating gas, vapors, metals
salts & all powerful gravity still tethering creatures to earth
seven miles from Cortez is the juniper, cedar & pine
gateway back to another time, younger than highway
atoms, not as ancient as oil and hydrocarbons
igneous rock cooled enough to be handled by symbiotic
communities, humans, shaped into blocks, walls, wide homes
seven miles from Cortez, to the south and seven generations
fast forward to when pit bulls and rotteys fill Navajo corrals
how long until butchered dog swings by one leg from the tree?
Naahwiilbiihi has slipped from his prison in our minds, and again
owns whole families, slaves, who insist that yes and no both mean yes
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