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"This morning / when the chill that rises up from the ground is warmed": Linda Hogan's Dark. Sweet.

Last year around Thanksgiving, I talked at little about Joy Harjo’s “Eagle Poem,” and I think I’d like to make it a tradition on the blog to feature poems by Native American poets during Thanksgiving week. 335 more words

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You are the result of the love of thousands

“Walking, I can almost hear the redwoods beating. And the oceans are above me here, rolling clouds, heavy and dark. It is winter and there is smoke from the fires. 63 more words


Two - Linda Hogan

The weight of a man on a woman

is like falling into the river without drowning.

Above, the world is burning and fighting.

Lost worlds flow through others. 93 more words