Quill #26 - The Mountain (1989)

"What is on top of the mountain?" Blue Feather asked her mother.
"Which mountain?" Great Owl queried.
"The peak you climbed last year when you weren't feeling very well."
"Oh, that mountain."
"Yes, that mountain," answered the youth.
"No one can describe that mountain," replied her mother.

"What is on top of the mountain?" Blue Feather asked her father.
"Which mountain?" Handsome Elk queried.
"The mountain you and our uncles circle for hunt."
"I do not know," responded her father. "I have never climbed up that far."

"What is on top of the mountain?" Blue Feather asked her grandfather.
"What mountain?" queried Sleeping Buffalo.
"The mountain over there!" cried his granddaughter as she pointed in the direction of the summit.
Grandfather put on his glasses and stared at the place she indicated.
"I don't see any mountain," he grumbled. "Play somewhere else now."

"What is on top of the mountain?" Blue Feather asked her grandmother.
"Why don't you climb it and see?" suggested Medicine Woman.

"I'm going to the top of the mountain," Blue Feather said to her mother. "Which is the best path to use?"
Great Owl set down her basket of seeds and began gathering some herbs.
"I will make a special tea for you," she stated. "Once you have drunk the tea, you will be able to climb any path you choose."

"I'm going to the top of the mountain," Blue Feather said to her father. "Which path is the most beautiful?"
Handsome Elk stopped dancing and opened his medicine pouch.
"I will consult the contents of my pouch," he declared. "They will tell me which path you should follow."

"I'm going to the top of the mountain," Blue Feather said to her grandfather. "What is the best way to climb a high peak?"
"Why would you want to do such a silly thing? replied Sleeping Buffalo, laying down his pipe to speak. "There is too much work to do here." He waggled a finger at her.

"I'm going to the top of the mountain," Blue Feather said to her grandmother. "What should I take with me?"
Medicine Woman shook her rattle at her granddaughter.
"Just go!" she urged the youth. "Take nothing."

Blue Feather stood at the top of the mountain.
She breathed cold air.
She smelled pine scent from twisted, hunched trees.
She felt the brisk wind blow feathers into her hair.
She saw eagles hover in strong currents.
She heard a snake's rattle and the chanting of storm clouds.

When she turned around to look at the village, Blue Feather saw her grandmother's spirit flying up to meet her.

"Well, Blue Feather," asked Medicine Woman's spirit, once she had arrived at the crest. "What is on top of the mountain?"
Her granddaughter thought for just a moment, then gave her answer.

"I am."

Quill #25 - Poe'er (2010)

Free verse or rhyme,
Rhyme or free verse,
Which is the better?
Which is the worse?

Most of my teachers,
Most of the times,
Said, "It's not poetry
Unless it rhymes!"

Those that rate free verse
As poetry, too,
Think themselves 'lightened,
Diviners of true.

This little dog'grel
Will not mend a fence
'Tween those that want either
To make better sense.

Symbology rules
In the p. p. o. view.
You might as well spell
'Leaves of Grass' I. O. U.

We're not going to solve this
Ridiculous fight
Till God reaches down
To put out the light.

Suffice it to say that,
Whatever you use,
You're likely unpaid
And seeking a muse.

Quill #24 - Senior Farewell (1979)

It's coming.

The time we looked forward to when, way back in our youth, people asked us amusing questions like, "What will you be when you grow up?"

It's coming.

The thing we couldn't wait for when we got angry at our parents and wanted to be older so we wouldn't have to put up with them anymore.

It's coming.

We're not children anymore. We can't hide behind our mother's skirts or hold our father's hand when we're scared of the dark.

It won't be long before we're doing that for our children.

It's coming.

On graduation night, when we stand up there so proud... and so alone, we'll cry. Because the panic will finally hit us and we'll finally realize there's no more waiting around.

Life is here.

Quill #23 - Facade (1979)

An empty stage,
In an empty room, dark,
Strewn with cobwebs, and dust, and old programs.
Only a few hours before
The stage was bright,
The room filled with people,
A play was performed.

The curtain closed.
The lights went off.
The cars left.
The characters that were brought to life for a few short lines
Disappeared as though never there.
Gone forever,
Except in the hearts of the players, and the old programs,
Waiting to be swept away...

Quill #22 - A Marvell-ous Response (1995)

To those who would rush me before my time,
Speaking blithely of joys of the flesh,
You claim you hear chariots approaching behind
As though Death, at your shoulder, stands ready to thresh.

Truth is, if you value my heart and my mind,
And not merely desire my form,
Is it not worth it to you to be gen'rous and kind?
Or am I but a jewel to adorn?

There are joys in the hunt and the chase, in all life!
One can choose to forego parts of that.
But regret follows those who dispense with a rite.
Courtship ought to be more than a doff of the hat.

The game is to separate the chaff from the wheat,
Would you hasten me out of my dole?
If you have not the patience to wait for my meat,
How much time will you give for my soul?

Quill #21 - Buster Daddy (2010)

"Smash his face!" I thought,
Rooting for Marlene in this play.
She swings a crowbar at him a few times,
But the physical is not her realm.
He gets a sore toe and feelings of loss.
She gains some bruises,
A new life, and love,
Harmonic resonances,
A re-gifted son,
A better deal all around than even Roosevelt's.
This generation, one of the first to understand
Why help was needed,
Still has too many voices
Sounding out the praises of abusive corporate partners,
Feeling trapped and unequal to the demands,
Unable or unwilling to leave,
Like battered spouses everywhere,
Downtrodden,
Lacking even a cast iron skillet for weaponry,
Afraid,
And betrayed,
By their own loyalty and lack of options.

Quill #20 - Artist Descending Life (2001-2002)

It's a good thing artists are brilliant

when we can't afford to pay the electric bills.
Understanding balance is an important skill
when we have to do the books every month.
Only a starving artist can make a "Still Life of Fruit"
substitute for the real thing.
Next time let's have "Still Life of Steak Dinner."
Temperamental natures are a blessing
when the bed isn't big enough for two.
Dear Soulmate, in future lives,
let's take turns being practical.
You go first.
Baths are much cheaper when you can draw one.
When they told us we would suffer for our art,
did you think they meant winters, too?
At least we can use warm colors.
We do our best impressionistic work
when we can't focus on our real goals.
I wish somebody rich would tell us what they like
so we could paint it.
It's a good thing artist's don't need their ears to paint.
Then again, they do make an interesting brush stroke.
We do our best work with nudes
when we can't afford to do laundry.
Would you like one cubist or two with your drink?
When the baby was born,
we understood Dadaism for the first time.
Our best life insurance policy is death.
That's when the paintings sell.