All the nameless men, the Jims and Joes and Davids, at the rail on this training ground. From our vantage point we can not see their eyes, the other girls and I. Light shines against us, but it flows around them leaving their faces blank. It is not for us to see them, not for us to choose.
I have posted a few of my Cherokee poems. I may post some short stories and excerpts later. the long man grandfather, the Long Man, came down from the hills to the green valleys of the Smokey Mountains, where grandmother sent her love in the four directions, giving life to our mother Selu, and our father Kanati, and the cedar tree and the strawberry, the swiftly running deer, the hare in the underbrush, the tiny […]
The sun is in the east, backlighting the slender blond haired woman in ponytail cutoff jeans a lightweight jacket over her torso. One leg is bent at the knee, the other straight. She dangles a cigarette from her right hand. A man with a bicycle stands a few feet from, and to the south, of her. The man sits motionless astride the bike