only weeks until the fair
by t. zoEy benally

evanescent khaki clad ground squirrel munches goat head blossoms
backs absorbing southern sun they scrutinize fair board provisions
Cynomys gunnisoni pyrethrin dusted, plague fleas gone

i like to stare at clouds reflected in puddles
by t. zoEy benally

i like to stare at clouds reflected in puddles
sweatshirt grey conglomerations of molecules
gaseous water mirrored by liquid water
small volume contains soaked enamel skies
recreate summer evenings pressed to the ground
two small eyes trained on the atmosphere arc
layers of gases, gossamer fabrics, angled filters
polarized gas lenses, cushioning us from cold
black exhales, vacuum breathed from god lungs

water saturated dirt melts away, now clean pebbles
granite chips, brightened from matte dust, fade to
flaming sun sunk red, duck neck teals, honey brown
precious jewels that vanish with evaporating liquid
mica glitter, embedded in dried magma, spewed
from some ancient volcano, hurled into smoke
not clouds, acrid airborne particulate choke, violently
grab oxygen, bound up in SOx & NOx with duct tape
winds thick with earth belches, bloated sulfur farts

i take this monsoon opportunity to look without
fear of offending rain deities, stop drops from falling
hydrogen and oxygens, seized, held tight
electric charges, clamor through atomic tunnels
empty metal desk raked across cattle guards by
burly men, dressed in silver lining gore-tex
hollow rez rockets driven too fast across washboard
roads, fine dust swirls up, slinky curls fully extended
drizzle down 8 meters per second, fill vinyl crevices

i watch for rainbow, ribbons unfurl from hazy planet edges
colorful lightwaves bounced off glass pools--trampolines
cupped asphalt, slight defect, cradles moisture dimensions
ROY-G-BIV somersault, cartwheel, flip end over end
multitudes of quark flavors sprinkle down--invisible
world miserably unaware of the shift in potential energy
riotous swings, tensions suspended on charges
the pools give my neck, shoulders rest, and allow me
to stare at clouds reflected in puddles without tripping

daddy long legs prevent baths
by t. zoEy benally

baby developed a slight fear of spiders, then
spiders decided that the shower is a stellar
bug trapping environment, web central, and
as a result, baby developed a slightly funky
scent, slightly sticky bed head-do, and a massive
reluctance, resistance to taking baths, cleanliness

i bought a book, beautiful art, featuring
Little Miss Spider, yellow and black
a book that concludes with Miss Spider
finding a mother in green Betty beetle
in one day read four times four people
baby perched on laps, read to sixteen times

last night was the test, cultural sensitivity
of baby towards little spiders, miss or mister
everywhere, we walked into the bathroom
baby started saying, "i don't like spiders..."
"you don't like Miss Spider? remember,
she only wanted a mother?"

baby contemplated that idea in her lovely brain
that these spiders meant her no harm, only
wished to cuddle and snuggle with other exoskeleton
creatures, arachnids or insects, which ever
loved the spider best, to further illustrate, i picked up
a large daddy long leg, carried away, unharmed

baby was enthusiastically relieved, no longer
worried about spiders stalking her, Psycho style
in the shower, eight legs lurking behind soap,
shampoo, compound eyes watching, plotting
baby splashed joyfully, swirled bubbles in the tub
baby smelled wonderful, hair clean, fluffy
pretty baby in clean pajamas, spiders left to hunt

today i watched a woman unhinge her jaw
stuff a donut in and chew, rhythmic mastication
i wondered if the donut was good, quality
or old and crusty, only the surface beautiful
she chewed, pastry cud, eyes pasted to the telly
images paint rolled on of the devistation
in New Orleans, bodies floating in water
eyelids low, fleshy cheeks moving with her jaw
she observed houses surrounded by muddy water

a guy walked in as i was reading an old Newsweek
i could see his Adidas tennis shoes and Puma track jacket
in my peripheral vision as i read about London subway
naked bloddy bodies being stepped over by fleeing people
he stared with the woman at the television, his mouth
slightly ajar, breathing air in and out
probably drying out his lips, tongue, breath
she continued chewing, lifted her left leg
and placed it over her right, shifted onto her right
butt cheek, took another bite of possibly sinewy sweet

today i listened to christian rock disguised as punk
the guy bobbed his head like a rocker, i'm sure
he wished he could turn up the volume, jam
but i was there, so now i wonder what's the criteria
for christian music? is there a board that decides
what becomes eligible for play on these stations?
i wonder who's idea it was first--to incorporate
the rock and pop formulas into church music?

today i sit in an air conditioned room, jacket on
tapping plastic keys, electricity gobbed by this monitor
later i will walk down sidewalks scratched from earth's surface
ground gaia innards chew by metal teeth, never swallowed
while mud dries, mold grows, skin cells grow and finally
push hard scabs off mended wounds, fall for ants to find
i will think about old leaders, that have finally grown up
and wish to go back so they can have that moment
not chew that donut, and really try to save the world.

one word: ceremony
by t. zoEy benally

days filled with sandy food, sleepy relatives
smoke rubbed against roast mutton
spiraled hours poured out of aluminum shasta cans
carbonated water fills layered footprints, attracts ants
who listen respectfully to prayers while waiting
for sugar to crystallize, crust around dirt cubes
hours where you just had to be there...

trip to PHX
by t. zoey benally

silver Echo bloated with gasoline we zipped west
at the last minute i tossed the swimming suit out
shoved an extra pair of socks and underwear
into my health fair tote bag, shriveled from hot water
odometer needle pointed at 60MPH, i was surprised
to encounter a driver, arm rested on window sill at 55

Beclabito and Teec Nos Pos had horses in the streets
Red Mesa was our first stop, health center ribs
not yet stained by red sand, dwarfed twisted cedar
cruised through Mexican Water, across the bridge
up the hill, south on 191, tourist track towards Chinle
cows ambled through traffic towards Burger King

finally make it into Holbrook, sneak past Velosaraptor
miss the turn off that goes past Woody's, we end up
exiting on the next ramp, swing past the infamous
US66 wigwams, old autos used as parking dividers
internet says Native American Indians, no specific
tribe mentioned, lived in wigwams--very interesting

we zoom down through the canyon, weave around
fallen rocks, all the crosses i remember from before,
marking motor vehicle crash fatalities, no specific
names mentioned, are no longer there--removed
not as persistent as stucco cones, erected by Route
66-fifties nostalgia tribes, rampage west to CA

Tucson is humid, reportedly monsoons recently
have begun, ending a 39 day 100 degree heat streak
we pick up little sister and proceed to Tempe
admire all the new construction, reminisce about
visits to records stores, first dinners at restaurants
finally make our way to Dave's Inn, i mean Day's

we eat sushi, edamame and water, discover that
benadryl is an essential first aid kit component
and that downtown Scottsdale has no drug stores
Batucada is next, one hour early, forgot that Arizona
doesn't believe in daylight savings time, wonder
how they'll handle Bushy's new law extending it

going on a trip tomorrow
by t.zoEy benally

tomorrow we're going to Phoenix
i still need to pack, decide if i should bother
to take a swimming suit--i can't swim
only embarass my kids with drowning motions
mouthfuls of air gulped amid thrashes

tomorrow morning we're going to leave
supposedly at 6AM, but i expect clock hands
to creep past six and twelve significantly
before i finally decide i have remembered everything
forgetten only essentials (toothbrush, underwear)

tomorrow we're going to drive down the bumpy Jubilee hill
turn left, cross the bridge, maybe stop at Citgo
fill up on gas, two 20-ounces of water, chips, donuts
make sure i scrub all the bug-gut splatters
off the windshield, arrange cd-s, toss trash

tomorrow we're going to go through red mesa,
kayenta, tuba city--retrace the first trip we took
as a couple, brave, unflinching belief in Sheena,
punk rocker, maroon hatchback Renault Encore
redrive roads i learned to drive on, many 3AMs ago

tomorrow... i have no idea what we'll discuss tomorrow
maybe finish discussions on revolution requirements,
Navajo Youth Liberation Army uniforms, songs, activities
maybe invent another industry, light rail spider legs embracing
everything between the four sacred mountains

shi dine bizaad
by t. zoEy benally

lee chaa'i ei lizhin
masi ei ligai
naa a hoo hxai ei lichii
dine bi zaad ei shil naan tlah

shi deezhi tadiin do bi aan taa bi naa hai
to' deel chxooshi taalai do bi aan naaki' yaal ba iili
abiinigo ashdla' doo alnii oolkil ayoo shil yaa a teeh
dine bi zaad doo shil di in diin da

ilwoosh! sinida! iiya! noweh!
jaa'ii! ma'ii! naa'ii! bidii!
yaa di lah! ge' shoo...
alkidaa, dii tei ya shil beehoozin ntee'

haatiish baanina?
dikwiish beeso ne hoolo?
haadee nanina?
dine bizaad bohoosha, shika anilyeed

what i have done...
by t. zoEy benally

i distinctly remember the feeling of riding the hinge
the sick, but exhilarating roll of steel around steel, degrees
angle change, but was the door opening or closing? 0 to 180 or reverse?
i have no clue, only mixed dread, sadness in my throat.....

thousands of scenarios i have played since that moment
millions of possible futures i imagined, troubleshot
but i am not psychic, i do not predict or know THE future
only use data collected to develop ideas, hunches, notice trends

but you ask, if i had a do-over would i still go in this direction? the answer
undeniably yes--i would allow a glimpse of a small fragment of my world
a direct taste of the un-homogenized stream, icy winds of my reality felt
no hesitation, plow through decades of underbrush, clear this new trail

i am a nobody that never imagined that there would be a somebody
that would even understand this sliver, wedge of me sliced off
but what causes tears to condense, like shower steam on mirrors
is one particular maybe, the maybe of freaks, super-heros--not being understood

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