Friday, December 29, 2006


Thursday, December 28, 2006

Mag Poem.3 "About Life"

About Life

Orange across your cozy moon
weedwet yet livid drinking
from a black sea of remembering,
a dizzy stream of voice, an after
scent, the full stream under skin.
Feel our tiny sky? The rose night,
a puddle of brilliant stone, cool
slather. How not to hear sun-red
urges, this heartvein to America,
what color soil brings blossom, sizzle
rhythm, motor and paradise; live at love, love
bound anatomy and solitary machine so plump
in thrill beside you, full like luck, like river.


Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Lorna Dee Cervantes @ MLA - Phil 12/28-31 - Panel On American Indian Poetry: 12/29

I'm off for the MLA, the Modern Language Association conference in Philadelphia thursday. I'm planning on hunting down Jessica to meet & greet -- anyone else? That is, if I don't get snowed in -- oh my!

Session Details

Friday, 29 December

430. Poetry and History in the Indigenous Americas

12:00 noon–1:15 p.m., Liberty Ballroom Salon A, Philadelphia Marriott

Program arranged by the Division on American Indian Literatures

Presiding: Deborah A. Miranda, Washington and Lee Univ.

1. “Reclaiming the Language: Contemporary Anishinaabe Poetry,” Margaret A. Noori, Eastern Michigan Univ.

2. “The Reclaiming of History in Contemporary Poetry by Indigenous Women of North America,” Christina A. Roberts, Univ. of Arizona, Tucson

3. “The Persistence of Chumash Memory in the Poetry of Lorna Dee Cervantes and Deborah A. Miranda,” Sonia V. González, Purdue Univ., West Lafayette

Respondent: Lorna Cervantes, Univ. of Colorado, Boulder

For copies of abstracts and papers, visit after 7 Dec.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Paula Gunn Allen Needs Our Help

I just found this on Ron Silliman's blog. Paula Gunn Allen was an important poet and person for me, especially in my early years. Please do what you can to help. I'm posting the entire letter from Silliman's blog in order to reach as many people as possible. Thanks, Ron, for posting it. And thanks LaVonne.


The Paula Gunn Allen Fund has just been established to provide financial assistance to Paula, whose car, double-wide trailer, clothes, appliances, books, and papers burned in a fire in mid-October.

Evidently, some oily rags, stored in a shed on her newly built deck, ignited and burned her house and car. Paula, who was in the house when the fire started, suffered smoke inhalation and was briefly hospitalized after the fire. Two weeks later, her landlady found Paula unconscious on the floor of her temporary apartment. Hospitalized again, Paula was in a coma for at least six days and in the hospital for two weeks. Since returning to her apartment, she has responded well to physical and lung therapy and her spirits are better than they have been in some time. As of today, she can walk ten steps without a cane.

This has been a hard year for Paula. Just before the fire, she had successfully completed radiation therapy for lung cancer, which doctors found in its early stages. The treatment, however, debilitated her.

Paula has given us all so much over the years through her creative and scholarly writing and her direction of the 1977 NEH-MLA Summer Seminar in Native American Literature. Your donation can help her rebuild her life.

Send your donation to The Paula Gunn Allen Fund, Account No. 0129540739, Bank of America, 228 North Main Street, Fort Bragg, CA 95437. (Include "The," which is part of the fund's legal name). The donation is not tax deductible.

Paula also needs copies of books containing her essays or poems because hers burned in the fire. Fortunately, she had deposited most of her papers in the library of the University of Oregon several years before the fire.

Receiving notes and cards from her Native literature colleagues will lighten her spirit. Mail can reach her at 5601/2 North McPherson Street, Fort Bragg, CA 95437. She will probably be at this address for at least the next six weeks, until her lot is cleared of debris and a different trailer is placed there.

If you have questions, feel free to contact me. Patricia Smith and others are planning some events to help raise funds. I will inform you about these as plans are finalized.

For health reasons, I am not coming to MLA this year. Happy holidays.



A. LaVonne Brown Ruoff
Professor Emerita of English

University of Illinois at Chicago
Home Address: 300 Forest Avenue Oak Park, IL 60302-2012
Home phone: 708-848-9292; Home fax:708-848-9308


Allison Adelle Hedge Coke

Creative Writing, IAIA
83 Avan Nu Po Road.
Santa Fe, New Mexico 87508
505-424-2365 office

RIP - James Brown

To the Hardest Working Man in Show Business: Rest In Peace, James Brown

End of Fast - Food on Earth

Food On Earth ... and justice for all who work to provide it

Saturday, December 23, 2006

FASTING: Day Two - "Coffee" Poem for Acteal, Dec. 22, 1997

"Coffee" - For Acteal, 12/22/97
One reason I'm boycotting Christmas this year. Posted on Day Two of a three day fast -- for love, peace, justice and dignity for all. And, for something to eat.


René Arceo -


In Guatemala the black buzzard
has replaced the quetzal
as the national bird. The shadow
of a man glides across the countryside,
over the deforested plantations; a death
cross burnishes history into myth
as it scours the medicinal land into coffee;
burial mounds that could be sites
of unexcavated knowledge hold only
blasted feathers and the molding bones
of freedom. Golden epaulets glint
in the fluorescent offices, crystal
skulls shine in the eyes of the man
with the machete, within the site
of an AK-47. Under the rubble
of the ruling class, a human heart
beats in the palm, the tumba of ritual mercy
drums in the thunder clap, a hurricane wind
sounds the concha. In Quetzaltenango, foreign
interests plot the futures of Mayan hands
and Incan gold. While on Wall Street,
the black sludge of a people trickles through
cappuccino machines like hissing snakes.

To read more click here to go to MySpace, then click on my blog there, "The Poems. The Whole Poem. And Nothing But the Poem."

René Arceo -

Woodcut by René Arceo for Poetas y Pintores Exhibit

~ Lorna Dee Cervantes

Friday, December 22, 2006


I can't help it, I like this stuff. I like living with a postcard out my window. I don't go out in it, although when I do, I still find it exciting. Before the time I spent in Provincetown (the Work Center) and before moving to Boulder 18 years ago my conception of snow was what came out of the freezer while defrosting. What did I know from snow? This California Girl had a way to go far away before she'd know. And now -- (s)now.


I wrote that the other day, in my snow musings post. I really like it. A one-word poem for sure. It really says it, to me, to right now. I love how El Mundo calls a moratorium on us and our vampiric consuming and consumption upon the planet. El Mundo, yes, that's my God. I'm sorry, but it is. Y La Tierra la Diosa, La Virgin. And Gaia, the gateway to the geysers of consciousness and Light that we are in all our colored splendor. Let's keep it up. Call a moratorium on it all but the now. And, real goods and services, not bow down to the symbol of what is sold and how to buy it. No need for gold anymore, not in this age of digital and telecommunications. Spirit moves within and among creation. I love the silence of the world stopped. The real. The now.


a poem of planetmind

peace & love to you and yours -- towards growth and those bridges across the great divides

today I'm fasting: for indigenous peoples everywhere with little to eat, for Mexico, for peace and justice with dignity and journalists to tell it, for an end to unjust laws, an end to unfair immigration policies, for union, for solidarity

picket your Mexican Consulate today

say something

today on this slate the world says


Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Lorna Dee's Contemporary Chicano/a Literature Course Description

I think of my blog, and blogs in general, as being like an artist's open studio open 24/7. Or, my working journal or writers notebook left open on the table. Today, you have a rare glimpse into my office. I may not keep this up long, it's a first draft of my syllabus course description for a contemporary Chicano/a writers course I'll be teaching for Chicano Studies in the spring. Any CUB students out there? There's still room in the class. (oh, yeah, Sheryl's one of the poets I'll be teaching.) I'm stoked. And watching the snow ...

Contemporary Chicano/a Writers (CHST 3824 - 001)
"Chicana Poetry: Floricanto in the New World"
Lorna Dee Cervantes, Associate Professor
TR 9:30 - 10:30 AM, CLRE 104
University of Colorado - Boulder
Spring 2007

Course Description
This section will examine the role of Chicana poetry and the play of "Flor y Canto" (Flower and Song) (Xochitl in Cuicatl) in the development of Chicano literature, and by extension, American Poetry. It will provide an overview of the most important writers of prose fiction of the past three decades while focusing on women's poetry and making (praxis and poesis) -- and the erasure of narrative in the progression of Chicano fiction from naturalism, realism, and romanticism to post-modernism and post-avant modes of discourse. An emphasis on the indigenous voice and literary strategies and the interplay and construction of identity, comunidád, and power while transversing and transgressing the divisions and borders of discourse will be placed upon the consideration of discursive practices: prayer, song, poem, story, novel, essay, article, writ. We will discuss vision; and Sandra Cisnero's journeys from Bad Boys to a House On Mango Street, and back; Ana Castillo's Invitation to her crossings into the body and a body of crítica and the critical in relation to her theory of Xicanisma and how it applies to definitions and stances of gender; Demetria Martinez's tale of the self to a tale of testimony in a court of law for the act of telling; Richard Rodriguez's wrestling with telling and his incomprehension and dis-recognition of an ancient system of comadres and comadrisma, the psychology of telling, and how it applies to the rise of the Chicano/a literary anthology via certain advances and changes in print technologies; Naomi Quiñonez's historical gaze into the heart of Helen and "Malinche" and seeing through to the other side of the Smoking Mirror; Cherríe Moraga and Gloria Anzaldúa's march across This Bridge Called My Back across the baring straight into The Last Generation at the crossroads and crosshairs of the borderlands; we'll see and slurp Carmen Tafolla's Salsa and slappin' as she gets her tortillas together for a new generation of literary educators; and sense the sinuous stirrings of Restless Serpents and the releasing power of phrasing Restless Serpents redux from seminal literary figure Bernice Zamora's hands -- ever releasing into the hands of contemporary poets such as Tammy Gómez and Sheryl Luna as Sheryl reteaches us to see and Pity the Drowned Horses. This course will provide an outline of the history of the Chicano Renaissance, 1962 - 2002 as a continuation of the history of Flor y Canto, a tradition and cultural force in the making of the Americas for more than five millennia. Theories of the land and the relation of language to the land will also be examined, along with the relations of language to power and how it is exercised in the Américas, the United States, and on indigenous lands. This course will assume the interrelationship among all of the arts and ways of producing culture. This course assumes the illusion and erasure of borders and examines the words on the page from a global perspective, as "No man is an island" as no woman ever is a penninsula. This course will adhere to indigenous American values: respect, humility, temperance, prudence, preserverance, compassion. This course will require extensive reading and writing. Expect surprise visits from guest poets. RECOMMENDED PREQ. CHST 1031 or 1044. (Some Spanish, helpful but not required.) (Students interested in submitting creative work should notify professor in advance and provide a sample of creative writing for review and approval before or during the first week of class.)

Snow Day

It was announced yesterday and an article in today's Post about a "monster" snowstorm coming through Colorado. White Christmas, indeed -- and just when I'm boycotting (or, think I am). It's snowing now, not hard, not large flakes, but steadily. I went out to get the paper which was pretty hard to see under the snow and I don't know if the Boulder paper is under there, too. I've got to deal with my dog, he sleeps in the bathroom most nights, especially when it's cold, but he's a rescued dog from Isla Mujeres and he really prefers to be outside. Except today. And, he got into a skunk, living or dead, last month and it still stinks. I'll have to stop what I'm doing and bathe him in the upstairs bathroom with something or other. And, I'm still grading. Good day to grade. Bad day to have people pick up their manuscripts & journals -- so email me if that's you.

I can't see the mountains any more, and they're right there. close by. I could be in San Francisco if I just look at the sky. It still gives me a thrill -- what I always imagined in my heady youth: getting "snowed-in." I always knew it would suit me. Give me a book and fire and food and tea and I'm set. I'm a resourceful type. I always resented that they started and quickly ended a Campfire Girls chapter in my barrio school. In another life I may have been Davy Crockett -- ha! Wouldn't that be karma? Sometimes I think I could make fire and find water and navigate myself home no matter what. But, you know, why?

It's cold, and it's wet, but not windy yet. I don't drive but I worry for those who do, and worry when I'm out walking and cars are slipping around beside me. But, I'm like a dog in this. Although I don't ski and, for the most part, I'm afraid of the snow in the mountains and stay out of them when it gets like this, I'm sure I could get into snow-shoeing through some silent forest. I've got a silly ski suit I bought a while back; it's black ('natch) and tight, makes me look like a female stormtrooper, and not in a cool way, but it does the trick: wind proof, snow proof, water proof, leak-proof, breathable and it covers everything but my head. I miss my Peruvian llama hat with the wide brim and llamas on it, it was great for blowing snow. I have to go out soon, the sooner the better, stock up, mail stuff, go to the bank so I can get a bank manager to sign off on a form so I can get paid for Amherst. (That's the thing about what I do, I get paid a lot for what is, besides travel, about 15-20 minutes of work -- but I have to wait to get paid, and often have to put out for travel expenses first. The check is always in the mail, especially when I have to deal with Us and colleges.) Though, I know, I shouldn't complain. I know what it is to be out in the cold, wet, and hungry because there's nothing else to be done, or, it's out of my hands. What if you're in Greeley right now? And mama or papi isn't coming home any time soon, and the lights & gas are going off soon. Hmmm, I'll have to post where you can donate to families in Greeley...

So, me, I have what I've wanted, the life I've come to, here with my two fireplaces, gas & log, looking out the window at the flakes making Pound poems on the trees. Thinking about then and now, but in capital letters and some kind of girlish font. Thinking about people, too, friends far away, friends I haven't met yet. Missing. Dream people, too, those faces with their intense looks and touch who may or may not step out of the dream, the face on the screen, on the page. Age, yes, not so bad. My grandmother was always such a grand elder -- I am not afraid of old age, with it comes a certain liberation for us brown girls. But, dang, you know? It snows. Or it doesn't. And the long drought develops. The deep freeze/ the icy sheets. It all becomes black and white, as it is now. And I'm in my hands now.


Here's a poem after Rilke ("Whoever has no house now, will never have one./ Whoever is alone will stay alone." ~ R.M. Rilke)

Summer Day

The huge press of shadows
goes free, wind in the heavy
wine, a restless command
of fulfillment. I read, wander
up and down the sweetness of your
house: dry leaves blowing, a long
letter I will never have.

~ a summer day, 2005
Lorna Dee Cervantes

* now listening to Seal, "A Rose On the Grave" - "Did you know that when it snows/ my eyes become large/ and the light that you shine can't be seen ..."

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

My Major Personality Type: EXPLORER/negotiator

Interesting, interesting, interesting. What do you think friends? family? fancy or foes? Ya think so? Me, I think this is amazingly accurate. That''s me! ~ LD (or course, it helps that it's flattering ;-) Ok, back to grading (grating?)

You are an EXPLORER/negotiator

You are a highly spontaneous person who always likes to try new things. Novel and unpredictable situations don't bother you; instead you find them challenging and exciting.

You tend to be focused and resourceful and you are able to juggle a lot of projects at the same time; as a result you are sometimes a whirlwind of activity.

You have a firm grip on reality and enjoy living in the present tense. But you have a keen imagination that enables you to lift off from time and space to be remarkably creative.

You are humorous. You are able to laugh at yourself, and you like entertaining others.

You have a deep sense of compassion. You can show genuine insight into the needs of others; you are good at listening and talking; and you express a genuine desire to be helpful.

Yet you are easy-going. Your tolerance for others and their beliefs, your lack of prejudice, your ability to compromise and your occasional antics make you popular with others and a great companion.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

On Life and Death and Poetry

My musings on death, specifically, my answer to a friend's question out of the diminishing ozone: "What do you think happens to you after you die?" has been waylaid by life. Life and meat and law. As it earlier was exploded (imploded?) by real death and life and poetry. Specifically, the death of a poet, Kari Edwards, who danced on the margins. So, there. So there. And now not.

And, now, the abuses at the meat packing plants, from that acrid stench that comes to us at certain times of year, the wafts of death mist from Greeley, the leavings of the meat that we, too, are to so many (too many) twisted strangers, reduced to pigs on the feed lot, cows on the wire cubicles of force-fed choice. I have an account written by a woman about her struggles to co-parent with the Mexican father of her child and how what *is* illegal in this country is to be poor and Mexican. People think it shouldn't be such a big deal, they get their papers for their spring break debauch, or visit Paris after high school, or visit the old family farm in Ireland but it is virtually impossible to visit the United States if you are Mexican unless you have at least $10,000 cash in the bank (back then, way more now) and own a business and have living close relatives still in Mexico. No matter that you are married to a US citizen (especially if you are male and your wife is not a white woman), have a job there and an employer who will vouch for you or that you have a child. The waiting time alone, is more than half the life of the child, a child without a father until she or he is a teen; a time waiting for a visa or a green card, literally and figuratively, that is all your life. Why? Because you are Mexican. Oh, yeah, and poor. And, if you're an orphan and poor, fahgeddabouit. Ten thousand dollars in the bank. That's what can keep you from your child. Your wife. Your work. Your life. It's a horrific account of a couple years spent going through all the legal channels in four states in Mexico and three in the US, but I'd have to type it into this computer unless I can get it scanned. People should read it. Real life. For some. Sad life. For others.

Meanwhile, I've missed another deadline -- there's something wrong when the time to prepare manuscripts for publication, put books to bed, send manuscripts out, apply for grants, etc., corresponds with the busiest time in academia. I don't have time to deal with po'biz for po'biz. Meanwhile, I gave two finals yesterday beginning at 7:30 in the morning. Can I help but feel it's an unnatural way to inspire a love of poetry? Give me Paolo Freire anytime. Or, a graduate poetry workshop. [sigh]

So, now it is December and the grading has begun ... to cop from an old "folk song" from the Isle of Mann. "Now it is September and the killing has begun."

So, time to eat, time to not eat the poor pigs. But, for diversions sake ... the grace. I found this poetry meme at Jessica's, one of my favorite po' bloggers. She writes "My Life by Poetry" and wants to know what us "older poets" would write. Fair enough.

My Near-Death by Poetry

A poetry meme from Jessica via Michelle:

The first poem I remember reading was... I don't remember. What I usually say is that I don't remember a time in my life when poetry wasn't at the center of my life. I heard poetry read on my mother's records, particularly Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Gibran. "How do I love you? Let me count the ways." I still love her. Dang, I think now, that's what I'm doing now. I've turned into EBB in my old age. [sigh - just need an RB] The first poem I remember reading and getting paid for is "The Wind" by Robert Louis Stevenson. My father gave me a copy of A Child's Garden of Verse when I was about 7. I can still recite it, and I still like it. Weird, what gets stuck in your grey matter. I had a really good relationship with my grandmother's boyfriend, Edward Long, and I could read it so it made him cry. A whole quarter for a reading of "The Wind" with as much feeling as I could muster at 7 or 8. I wrote about it in my poem, "For Edward Long" -- "I know wherever you are you'll be reading poems, and this is how I'll find you."

I was forced to memorize numerous poems in school and... this is not a correct statement. I used to say that I'm glad poetry wasn't taught in our barrio school, I would have ended up hating it. I worry that I don't feel like it's a great honor to have a poem of mine selected for the NEA poetry recitation program -- I don't feel good about the whole competitive edge to it, and that the kids aren't reading or writing their own poems, and that it will just make some middle schooler hate me and poetry for the rest of their life because some teacher forced him or her to memorize "Refugee Ship."

I read poetry because... the whole world is there: the known and the knowable and the unknown and the ineffable, the living and the dead. Mostly the dead.

A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem... is whatever I'm reading and loving at the moment. Poems by favorite people, like the one Bob (Hass) was working on when I was studying with him (when he was around to be my guru), "Songs to Survive the Summer." Otherwise, probably "Andando/ Walking Around" by Pablo Neruda: "It seems I am tired of being a man..." is my longest lasting love. I got to rewrite it last summer, allowed myself to, to pay homage to it and I published it in the last book, slipped it in at the last moment; It's called, "Sleeping Around" -- "It seems I am tired of being a woman...". It's a major joke in my household that "Oh, that one's my favorite!" is my most frequently voiced sentence. "No! That one! *That* one's my favorite!" I think the key to life is having lots of favorites. Like Julia de Burgo's poem, "Julia de Burgos" -- "You lie, Julia de Burgos, you lie!" is my favorite. Jessica mentioned Susan Howe, I, too, love Susan Howe's Thorow. I have lots of favorite poems from fella po' bloggers too.

I write poetry, but... I could be the Ben & Jerry's of chaya if I were that sort of (practical) person. But, Noooooooo. I have to go and be all ethereal and sh*t.

My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature... not much. I once spent about a dozen formative years reading almost nothing but poetry. And, why not, when the whole world's there?

The last time I heard poetry... was yesterday at my students' final presentation for Intermediate Poetry Workshop. One of their final poetry projects was to put their poetry in "real time". This is always my favorite time of the semester. I love how much better people get. I get all emotional and happy. I probably would have gone out dancing afterwards after going to see "The Miracle at Tepeyac" and to the tamale festival put on by Su Teatro in Denver except that I'd been up all night and was exhausted. The reading (scheduled during their weird final time of 10:30 am) was really great, and energizing because of it. I wish I had recorded it, but having to give a Modern Poetry final at 7:30 am, I didn't have time to get my camera equipment together. I have an old sony cam, but it takes really great footage and good sound, it's just bulky to schlep. Weird, too, that the U schedules finals on a saturday beginning of Chanukkah. But, thanks class, I really did hear some *poetry* and that's always good. Keeps me alive and glad of it.

I think poetry is like... nuclear physics, said Jessica. And I agree. I have one student who's writing poems inspired by astrophysics, good poems. I woke up this morning with the strange first thought that if a poem has a quark in it, you have got me every time. Who knows what I was dreaming.

Tagging ... you. Ya wanna play?

Poetry. Peace. Expatriates, all.

"Unconscious Mutterings #202 On 12/17/06"

  1. Hardball :: down the left love pocket.

  2. Sleepless :: in the slumber of sex, the pertinent

  3. Graduation :: of the heart. Hear how it ticks into infinite

  4. Presents :: The wrapping, divine, deveined in its sensitive

  5. Toe :: I come here often: dark stirrings of

  6. Lotion :: and artistry; the resident

  7. Snicker :: of change, the janglng. Put it down,

  8. Eve :: Lay your cue across someone's back. The patent

  9. Investment :: is worth the filling up. The

  10. Pain :: pays. The check is in the male. Sign for it. Now.

* Love your own cue and play it down to the chalk with La Luna Niña where muses goes to game.

"Unconscious Mutterings #201 On 12/17/06"

  1. Research :: your way out of the bag.

  2. Chuck :: class and poetry (which is a verb).

  3. Insert :: your own heart here. Be the big

  4. Bang :: the life force in someone's art -- your own.

  5. Lousy :: tendrils in the sky, the blown apart

  6. Rehearsal :: for the first act. Like me, then, the wan

  7. Critics :: say and don't stay and the curtain parts for

  8. Memory :: to take up her stand-in role. The great

  9. Squid :: of sex langouring there, somewhere under the sunshine, in

  10. Remove :: from the stage, the scenery, the change.

* Write your way off the stage and into some Renaissance heart. Or, not. But do it subliminally, sublimely.

Friday, December 15, 2006

"Nothing Lasts" Read By Lorna Dee Cervantes Up at Odeo - Podcast It

I like to listen to poetry while I'm washing the dishes. I know some people like to listen while they're driving. I like my iPod because I can listen while gardening -- when I do. Lately, I've just been listening while sitting right here, in my messy room, my home office. I once recorded all of Sylvia Plath's Ariel and Colossus along with Cesare Pavese's Hard Labor on the other side of an old reel to reel, a long playing tape in my own voice. There's just something about making soundwaves out of thought then reinjecting them back into your own neocortex, past what Robert Bly called the "Lizard brain." Yeah. Poetry making the mobius loop from Lizard brain to mammal reflex to human mind to whatever we imagine. I imagine. I listen to you, too, whenever I can.

Here's a poem you can listen to whenever, along with the player to listen to more new and old poems as I put them up, and listen to me read a few poems from master poet ee cummings. Swell, I swear.

I hope somebody's in the mountains. It's a beautiful day today in Boulder.

This poem is featured on Bob Marcacci's The Countdown #18 this week which features dead poet, Gertrude Stein, a feature of MiPo Radio. You can also listen at the Cafe Cafe where good poets hang out and I go to get inspired. Hosted by Didi Menendez, she also selects poems for a print mag. My poem, "Shelling the Pecans" was published in Ocho and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize this year. So, we'll see. So, thanks, Bob, it's an honor. The poem was read like she liked it by Julie Carter. Thanks, Julie! I had the flu bad last week, so couldn't record it until now. Visit the site and check out a previous podcast featuring one of my favorite poets, Frank O'Hara. I really loved it. Lunch Poems has been one of my favorite books since I was in junior high school. How come no one ever writes about that? All they seem to be interested in is how colleagues mistake me for the lady who empties the trash. Sigh.

<---- Currently listening to Billie Holliday, "Stormy Weather", since my man and I ain't together...".

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Boycott Christmas This Year

I'm seriously considering boycotting Christmas this year.

My son, of course, was appalled. But most of what he wants won't be available until after, anyways. And he usually gets stuff on 3 Kings Days, El Dia de Tres Magos. "So, what are we going to do instead?!" he asked. "Well," I answered, "I'm seriously thinking of fasting in support of poor indigenous peoples struggles in Mexico and thinking about peace on earth" "But, Christmas! What are we going to do for Christmas?" "Well, I'll still cook stuff. And ... we can make up our own holiday. We can celebrate Buy Everything Day! some other day" He laughed. I laughed. It was funny. And, true. Buy Everything Day -- Coming to your blog soon.

Anthem Salgado's Poet Tees - Check It Out

You have to check out this cool design and it's a great tee, too. Support a poet for the holidays -- Special pre-holidays price!

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Ding Dong, The Wicked Dic Is Dead!

Ding dong, the Dic is dead! The Dic is dead! The wicked Dic is dead!

Death is the only justice. And what justice in that?

I just gotta say, on sunday a Piece-o-Chit died, and I for one, am glad. I hope this brings out more of the truth about this and all those dirty wars. Let's all read a Neruda poem, listen to Victor Jara sing it while he still had hands, and say, along with Violeta, "Gracias a la Vida!"

I grew up in San José, California and lived and worked among the ones who weren't disappeared, some who seemed permanently not there and living a life of re-membered tortures. My heart to all the Chilean exiles and children of the exiled. This was real and enough to break the heart of a poet. "Look! Look at the blood in the streets!" Does justice fail? Find out.

ArRest In Your Own Imagined Hell, Pinoshit!

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Pulitzer Nominated Dip: Me & The Radish King

A couple of months ago, Rebecca Loudon posted a recipe for spinach artichoke dip that sounded divine. I just had to try it so I made it last night. I fixed enough to serve T's whole floor at work and today it's almost gone. Great stuff! I'm not into Gorgonzola, or following recipes for that matter, but I just substituted French mushroom brie for it and it turned out scrumptious. I'll be converting it into a chaya recipe for my one-of-these-lives chaya cookbook as chaya tastes like spinach except it has less water and more vitamins. This dip would make a great crepe filler as well.

And, speaking of great, I just love to dance the I-Told-You-So! dance whenever I can. I love that all my newly discovered "Best" po' bloggers are winning awards, acing contests and placing books. One thing I know is that I know how to pick them. And so does Rebecca's publisher. Rebecca, who's just a nose hair above Alison Stine on my list of the Best of the Best as top poet (who blows the top of my head off) has just been nominated for a Pulitzer for poetry -- me and Rebecca both. What a great fantasy if Rebecca & I met as a result of placing as finalists; that'd be so cool. Heck, I stalled on my book in order not to have it published the same year as Nate Mackey's book and Siken's Crush, both major winners last year. Ha! Do I know how to pick 'em or what? Tally ho, Rebecca! May the best radish or radial win.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Happy Birthday, Joan Armatrading!

Happy Birthday to one of my favorite artists and muses, Joan Armatrading: "SHOW SOME EMOTION!"

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Lorna Dee Reads Her New Viet Nam War Poem - Podcast

... despite the flu, and between the sniffles and the coughs -- I think Sylvia Plath was the first to discover how fever feeds the Muse, but I don't recommend it. See if this works; you may need to crank up the volume. You can also podcast it if you have iTunes, just do a search under my name until the link appears. Stay well. Here's the poem:

powered by ODEO

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Brand New: "A Viet Nam War Poem" Up At Lorna Dee Cervantes's MySpace

My new Viet Nam war poem that I wrote today can be found at MySpace at my blog: "The Poems. The Whole Poem. And Nothing But the Poem.". Check it out. Audio soon as I beat this bad flu. Provecho.

'Lorna's Smile' @ 9th Annual Voices for the Voiceless Poetry Concert After Receiving Lifetime Achievement Award - Fotos

Lorna's Smile
Originally uploaded by nuyoricangriot.
Check out these fotos of the 9th Annual Diaspora Poetry Concert by Eduardo Suarez posted by founding organizer and spoken word artist, Shaggy Flores. Lorna Dee Cervantes received the Louis Reyes Rivera Lifetime Achievement Award along with Roberto Marquez and Victor Hernandez Cruz -- all wielding "Weapons of Mass Discussion." It was an incredible reading from all involved: acting mc, Jahipster, Emanuel Xavier, Bao Phi and my dear friend and favorite thrower, Robert Karimi -- and an audience like a light socket. Energizing! There's hope when it's dope.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

It finally Got to Me - Socked In By Flu - And kari edwards

Flu redux:

Of Flu and Flem

Woke up this morning in a wet blanket of fog. I thought it was just because I had overslept. But the fog wouldn't lift. It filled my nose and lungs, my head with air and popping sounds. I kept moving through it, high-stepping over it, trying to step out of it, cross through to the other side of wellness. But it wouldn't dress off, wouldn't wash off, wouldn't drink off, the sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea no substitute for the real thing. Much thought about what's real last night. I thought it was just that thought-fog keeping up with me. But no. It was real. It was penetrating and dulling my sinuses. Filling me up with something else besides my own petty self and this silly heart, something impenetrable and lasting for the moment it takes to fill me with this gritty crispness, a fragile skin of today, brittle and thin. Where I was merely melting, dissolving at the mouth and eyes and breath, today I'm dry, a sec sac of air, a full bladder of hot numbness in the brain.

I call in sick right before class. As the flu creeps in with little rat's feet.

posted by Lorna Dee Cervantes Thursday, October 19 at 11:01 AM

And saddened by the news of kari edwards death while I was away - more on that soon. I was in the middle of thinking through a blog post in answer to a friend's sudden question out of the azure: "What do you think happens to you after you die?" when I returned from Amherst to the news on Eileen's blog. Meanwhile, go to Ron Silliman for more news and words, rendered as usual in his impeccable Silliman way; I'm too sick to feel or read or write anything but to get this brittle cocoon off my head. My thoughts are with kari and those of you shocked and stunned and saddened by kari's sudden passing of heart failure at age 52, my age. I was so gladdened to see kari's triumph (finally!) and was looking forward to be able to attend a reading and experience kari at the height of poetic power, to experience a rare coming into BEing as poet in conjunction with reader/listener. It just never worked out in the recent past; and now, past. And the final hanging blog, intensely empty but somehow so comforting a trace, a name and naming and the vibrancy of the act of language as leap of faith. RIP

Monday, December 04, 2006

Many MySpace Memes On A Monday (long!)

Lorna Dee Cervantes - Signing DRIVE
This one's from Charlie at MySpace, Charles Jensen, one of my blog buddies and one of the top poets on my list of Best Po' Bloggers I discovered in 2005.
Rainbow Line

What did the year of 2006 entail for you?

1.) Where did you ring in 2006?
Home. (I'm a bloody hermit.) I may have taken a hike. I hope so. I probably drank Belgian monks' cherry beer -- the only occasion I have one or two glasses, and it's always festive cherry beer, Krieg. I was celebrating this year as my new book, DRIVE came out on January 1. And, kissing at midnight. I'm superstitious that way. I like to say, as they say on Isla Mujeres: "I hope your next year is better than the last."

2.) What was your status by Valentine's Day?

3.) Were you in school (anytime this year)?
Teaching @ CU - Boulder

4.) How did you earn your keep?
Teaching & giving readings & lectures (anyone want to book one? I come cheap, sometimes even free or at cost for the community.) Selling books. Want to buy one, signed? Click on my Amazon pay system link at the bottom of page.

5.) Did you ever have to go to the hospital?
Not this year. (Charlie's answer)

6.) Did you ever encounter the police?
Yes. My kid called 911 as a prank, or, threatened to after drinking water that came out of a lysol spray bottle. He thought he was calling to go to the hospital (nothing but water in the bottle, trust me) and I told him not to, that the police would come instead as they have to whenever someone calls -- so he did. They came. I was pissed, and trying not to show it.

7.) Where did you go on vacation?
San Francisco. San Francisco. San Francisco. My brother's in Freedom.

8.) What did you purchase that was over $300?
iPod stuff - Bose port. Xbox 360. iPod. PsP. ?? for my son's birthday

9.) Did you know anybody who got married?
My little brother, Luz de Verano and Shellie. Barbara Reyes, whom I only *know* as an ace po' blogger buddy who married another poet from another coast, Oscar Bermeo -- I love their story

10.) Did you know anybody who passed away?
Yes. sigh.

11.) Have you run into anybody you graduated high school with?
Yes. My beloved sister-in-law, Janet.

12.) Did you move anywhere?
No. Not like 2003 when I moved 4 times -- all unplanned.

13.) What sporting events did you go to?

14.) What concerts did you go to?
Hijole, let's see... Los Lobos. Chucho Valdez. Otis Taylor. Jimmy Vaughan at memorial for Antone at Antone's in Austin. Susan Tedeschi. My big brother, Steve "Esteban" Cervantes playing with Dr. Loco's Rocking Jalapeno Band. A new local "SoBo" Festival that was really cool, genuinely crosscultural (put on with the help of an African drum & dance studio), really great music. Santana? And all the others I forget right now. I need live music -- that's one reason I'm on MySpace.

15.) Are you registered to vote?

16.) If so, did you do your patriotic duty on Nov. 7?
'course. And, asked for a paper ballot. Go to for the real democratic act - Real Democracy Now. The Indigenous Way.

17.) Where do you live now?

18.) Describe your birthday.
I read with one of my dear old buddies, Maurice Kenny, at an all-skins reading at the Intersection for the Arts in San Francisco & ran into another dear old friend at the airport, Alfred Arteaga.

19.) What's the one thing you thought you would never do but did in 2006?
None of your business. (my grandma's favorite answer to everything to everyone.)

20.) What is one thing you regretted this year?
None of your business. (related to the above) Actually, I regret nothing.

21.) What's something you learned about yourself?
I always seem to have the word "heart" in all of my poems -- on purpose.

22.) Any new additions to your family?
No. Too many dead plants.

23.) What was your best month?
August. Hands down.

24.) What from pop culture will you remember 2006 by?
Not much into pop culture. Maybe the disappointment from Kramer (the comic not my friend, the astrologer Kramer) who I used to like a lot. (Clever Dorks Unite - no racists aloud allowed)

25.) How would you rate this year with a scale from 1 (shitty) to 10 (the shit)?
6 - 8 (only because my book came out this year -- yea!)
Rainbow Line

And another from Charlie:

1. Which bands/artist do you own the most albums by?
1.) Memphis Minnie 2.) Santana 3. Van Morrison 4. Beach Boys/ Brian Wilson 5. Billie Holliday 6. Joni Mitchell 7. Dougie Maclean 8...???! Los Lobos

2. What was the last song you listened to?
"Wheel," John Mayer

3. What's in your CD player (on your record player) right now?
"Wheel" on loop - from a playlist of 233 of bummer love songs I've been collecting which I've been listening to continuously for the past month or so. All on iPod. Macs rock.

4. What was the last show you attended?
Jimmy Vaughan (Stevie Ray's big brother). Before that, my big brother playing with Dr. Loco's Rocking Jalapeno Band.

5. What was the greatest show you've ever been to?
Santana -- all, especially all the Be-Ins and happenings at San Jose State stadium in the 60s & early 70s. But, absolutely, Santana playing in the baseball field of Watsonville, CA after the major earthquake which was at ground zero there -- Santana, solo, surrounded by demolished and crooked Victorians in the barrio. An impromptu fundraiser concert, packed and holy. Almost no one but locals and raza and die-hard Santana fans. INcreíble!

6. What's the worst show you've ever been to?
nSync -- first row, slight left center. A gift to my 6 year old music fanatic son who stood at the stage the entire time. He was stoked. Then. But will be absolutely mortified when he finds this on my blog. Hey! I'll say. You were only 6! They'll understand. besides. They were the top pop band then. And I do actually like one of their songs. I'm hoarding the cds in my room now, as if he found them (they're his) he'd destroy the evidence. (He wants to go to the Fray, as of today's request. I'm planning to buy him tickets to Eric Clapton in spring for Xmas, his favorite. (He's always had excellent taste.) At 6 months he could coo Santana's opening to "Oye Como Va?" in perfect pitch; it was scary.

7. What's the most musically involved you have ever been?
In band, and especially choir in junior high school under the direction of my homeroom teacher, Dr. Alfonse Lewis (he was an actual Phd, and a concert composer, but, black in 1967 and could only get a job in a poor junior high in the barrio in California) Changed my life. We were really good, won a state prize, and it gave me the first in a seris of true aesthetic experiences. Especially when he founded the "cosmopolites" club which took poor kids like me in that school to SF for all sorts of art experiences. He once slipped me a five for food at the Hippopotamus Hamburgers, a famous place on Geary that served burgers as big as your head and real malts. My first restaurant meal. I am eternally grateful. I wish some miracle would happen and I could thank him in person.

9. What was your first concert?
Another one of my muses, Tracy Nelson, little sister to Willie Nelson, straight ahead blues singer with an incomparable voice and PASSION; a person of integrity which is why you've probably never heard of her. I owe my sense of poetic performance to her; when she was singing my favorite song, written by her, she hit and sustained this one note, really listening to what she was singing, that could not only shatter glass it made her nipples stand up noticeably through her shirt. It seemed the entire audience held its breath. I mean, even now, it's the test of a work. I mean, if it ain't making your nipples go erect, it ain't "It". I heard her open for the Doobie Brothers when I was 15 and won front row tickets from the radio when I was first person to have the right answer to some question, about Jimi Hendrix I think, who I hand-looped back then on my old phonograph. Funny thing was, DB were hot then, and I was sitting on the lawn outside the SU at San Jose State and the long haired main musician for the band walked by, stopped, and actually tried to pick me up. (!) It was pretty exciting, and he was CUTE, (that hair! I've always been a sucker for long hair) But, hey, I was 15. (What's up with that? I probably looked 12, but like a buck-skinned hippy.) I pretended I didn't know who he was, knowing I had a front row ticket in the back pocket of my jeans. Then he got real mad, and walked away, knowing he'd have a passel of fifteen year olds in his arms after the show. I don't remember if he saw me or we exchanged looks as I was still totally under the spell of a blown mind from Tracy.

10. What is your favorite band shirt?
Hard to say. I'd say tie among my first Dr. Loco' Rocking Jalapeno Band shirt (which had "Boogie" Band in the title then), a recently purchased Los lobos T with calaveras and "Peace Out" on the front, and my Selena shirt -- besides my brother's shirt, which I never wear because it's precious, which has a section of the mural JuanaAlicia painted in San Jose of us in an indigenous valley setting. But, the shirt I wear and wash the most is a black T with red print from The Mollys, a killer Celtic Chicana band with hella talented and eclectic musicians -- good dance music. It has some kind of really clever slogan that I'm forgetting right now and it's probably in the wash right now. Stomp the Floor. Or, something like that.

11. What musicians would you like to hang out with for a day?
Dead: Kid "Elizabeth" Douglas: "Memphis Minnie". I've written a full length movie about her: "PIGMEAT: The Life and Times of Memphis Minnie" which spans the years 1907-1973 and her 50 year career. (Any leads to Oprah? It's Oprah or bust for me when it comes to this property.) It's based on radio interviews of her that I found when I was a 17 year old fanatic.

Living: Carlos Santana. I'd like to talk to him about chaya and my idea to raise funds for hurricane relief for poor indigenous communities on Isla Mujeres and Quintana Roo. I'd also like to talk with him about rearranging molecules via sound and a certain African chord progression that resolves in such a way it makes magic as described by Kid Douglas in the interviews with her. She said her uncle, an African freeman who had returned from Liberia where he had opted to go and minister taught it to her. She taught it to Lonnie Johnson, whom she babysat for along with many other well-known bluesmen, and he may have taught it Dylan in the early 60's. And, anything else he wants to talk about. I'm from the Mission in San Francisco and I'd like to do something for the Milagro Foundation involving youth, literacy, nutrition and ART wherever we make it, whatever it is - it's all good, and, a saving grace. Yeah. that'd be way cool. He may have met my father and Susan. He wrote the preface to their mural book which is coming out soon about the Precita Eyes Muralists. So, as someone said, "It can happen." Dream On.

12. Who is one musician or group you wish would make a comeback?
Tracy Nelson. My brother, although he's never been about commercialism (it runs in the family.) Maybe one of his first bands that used to win all the Battle of the Bands and opened for the Grateful Dead, The Autumn People. I'm an old Leonard Cohen fan, another muse; I think he's making a comeback. Man, is that man the epitome of COOL. Dope. He'd be another MySpace if he'd only answer his mail and visit his site. But you can go to it and listen to and add four songs to your site.

13. Who is one band/artist you've never seen live but always wanted to?
Eric Clapton.

14. Name 4 or MORE flawless albums.
Sheesh, I feel I'm out of my league here. Or, these kinds of questions always seem to me like, name your favorite child. I love all that I love and interact with them at different times, so love them desperately at different times. Let's see, off the top of my head: Joni Mitchell's Blue, Miles Davis's Sketches of Spain. Jefferson Airplane: Surrealistic Pillow, or whichever album that's on. Any Beatles - Abbey Road, the White Album, (insert your favorite here). Rumors by (major space-out here). Duh, Fleetwood Mac. Any Van Morrison. Maybe Beach Boys Pet Sounds/ Smile ... ? Maybe anything Brian Wilson has a hand in. Los Lobos' Will the Wolf Survive? Patti Smith's first self-named. Any Santana - talk about choosing among your kids! Eric Clapton, oops, another major space-out, the one that won the Grammy after his son died. Stevie Wonder, Sounds in the Key of ... oops. Airto and Flora Purim - but I forget the name of the album; same with an album by Jaco Pastorious; Milton Nacimiento, I think the one with just his name -- I've always been surrounded by musicians so someone else always did the djaying. All oldies because they stand the test of time, and there are too many to consider right now otherwise. Of the new stuff, Mana, Amor es Revolucion and the first one, Mana. I'm really loving the latest. I bought it on the second day it came out, Amar es Combatir. And one of my students just gave me Esperanza by Manu Chao which I really like alot. It makes me happy, even when it makes me think of sad stuff, and what more can you ask for from an album?

15. How many music related videos/DVDs do you own?
Lots. Billie Holiday from a TV show. Several Conjunto Festival tapes. Stevie Ray Vaughan at Red Rocks. Eric Clapton. Maná. Grito Serpentino (my taping). ? ?

16. How many concerts/shows have you been to?
[A bajillion. I can't even remember all of them.] I'll go with Charles' answer. A bajillion.

17. What band have you seen the most live?
Los Lobos.

18. What is your favourite movie soundtrack?
I'm stumped. Visit me later after I've grown a few leaves. I know there's one.

19. What was your last musical "phase" before you wisened up?
I don't feel that about any of my musical loves. I take my musical soundtracks very seriously; maybe as a poet. There was a time I don't usually talk about when I was living at the Provincetown Work Center for nine months and went dancing a lot to canned disco. I really got into the song, Rock Lobster. I like Lady Marmalade and Chaka Kahn. But that was then, and there, and it was what it was and it was fun; it made me happy with my intelligent friends. I listen to black banjo music and love banjo music in general. I've been to old timey music festivals with my first love, the only mocha there, but dancing. I saw a lot of Jerry Garcia back then at these festivals. I admit to being maybe the world's only Xicanindia Beach Boys fan. I like Tuva throat singing. I like mariachi music and ballads and reels in Scotch Gaellic. Growing up with my brother and coming of age to KPFA and KTAO radio, I wised up early. (I do hate opera, though. And, no, you can't convince me otherwise; it's a matter of early conditioning.)

20. What's your "guilty pleasure" that you hate to admit to liking?
See the above. Maybe early Madonna, 'kay, this one makes me blush, her song "Starshine": "You must be my lucky star...". I always listen to oldies stations, especially vintage Motown, before a reading and dance -- it's my ritual. If that song comes on and I dance to it, it's magical, a portent, a major good omen. Hmmm, this last reading the exception now that I've been obsessed with my iPod (it changed my life) and have new portable speakers for it.
Rainbow Line

This one comes from Brissa from my hometown, San Jose:

I've Done 110 out of 150 Stupid Things (!) (111 including take this stupid test)

Level 1
(x) Smoked A Cigarette
(x) Smoked A Cigar
(x) Kissed A Member Of The Same Sex
(x) Drank Alcohol
So far: 4

Level 2
(x) Are / Been In Love…
(x) Been Dumped
(x) Shoplifted
( ) Been Fired
(x) Been In A Fist Fight
So far: 8

Level 3
(x) Snuck Out Of A Parent's House
(x!!!) Had Feelings For Someone Who Didn't Have Them Back
(X) Been Arrested (- 10 times, all for nonviolent civil disobedience, mostly anti-nuclear activity)
(x) Made Out With A Stranger
(x) Gone Out On A Blind Date
So far: 13

Level 4
(X) Had A Crush On An Older Person (in my relative old age, never when I was young - oh, wait, my junior high summer school Engish teacher)
(x) Skipped School
( ) Fooled Around With A Co-worker
(X) Seen Someone/ Something Die (why is that stupid?)
So far: 16

Level 5
(X) Have A Crush On One Of Your MYSPACE Friends (had - maybe it never goes away) (and, would have...ha! Maybe you?)
( ) Been To Paris
(X) Been To Spain (this is stupid?)
(x) Been on a Plane (yesterday)
(x) Thrown Up From Drinking (in my stupid youth) (most of these are)
So far: 20

Level 6
(x) Eaten Sushi (every day if I could)
( ) Been Snowboarding
( ) Met Someone BECAUSE Of Myspace (not yet)
(x) Been Mosh Pitting
So far:22

Level 7
(x) Been In A Mentally Or Physically Abusive Relationship (definitely stupid)
(x) Taken Pain Killers (prescription only, and only a few a few times when absolutely necessary) (I avoid all drugs and totally into natural and homeopathic healing.)
(x) Liked Someone Who You Can't Have
(x) Laid On Your Back And Watched Cloud Shapes Go By (this is stupid?)
(x) Made A Snow Angel
So far: 27

Level 8
(x) Had A Tea Party (this is stupid? Or, am I missing something?) (hmm, for my dressed up cats -- see poem in DRIVE -- so I guess that counts)
(x) Flown A Kite
(x) Built A Sand Castle
( ) Gone muddin (offroading)
(x) Played Dress Up
So far: 31

Level 9
(x) Jumped Into A Pile Of Leaves
(x) Gone Sledding
( ) Cheated While Playing A Game
(x) Been Lonely
( ) Fallen Asleep At Work / School (nodded plenty of times)
So far: 34

Level 10
(x) Used A Fake / Someone Else's ID
(x) Watched The Sun Set (this is stupid?! D. Addiss, where are you?)
(x) Felt An Earthquake
( ) Killed A Snake (never!)
So far: 37

Level 11
(x) Been Tickled
(x) Been Robbed / Vandalized
(x) Misunderstood someone
(x) Been Misunderstood
So far: 41

Level 12
(x) Won A Contest (why is this stupid? I'm proud.)
( ) Been Suspended From School
(x) Had Detention
( ) Been in a car/motorcycle accident
So far: 43

Level 13
( ) Had / Have Braces
(x) Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night
(x) Danced in the moonlight (naked)
So far: 45

Level 14
(x) Hated The Way You Look
(x) Witnessed A Crime
( ) Pole danced
( ) Questioned Your Heart
(x) Been obsessed with post-it-notes…
So far: 48

Level 15
(x) Squished Barefoot Through The Mud
(x) Been Lost
( ) Been To The Opposite Side Of The World
(x) Swam In The Ocean
(x) Felt Like You Were Dying
So far: 52

Level 16
(x) Cried Yourself To Sleep
(x) Played Cops And Robbers
( ) Recently Colored With Crayons / Colored Pencils / Markers (I wish)
( ) sang Karaoke
(x) Paid For A Meal With Only Coins
So far: 55

Level 17
(x) Done Something You Told Yourself You Wouldn't
(x) Made Prank Phone Calls
(x) Laughed Until Some Kind Of Beverage Came Out Of Your Nose.
(x) Kissed In The Rain (this is stupid?)
So far: 59

Level 18
( ) Written A Letter To Santa Claus… (cynic from the get-go)
(x) Been Kissed Under A Mistletoe
(x) Watched the sun set with someone you care/cared about (this is stupid?)
(x) Blown Bubbles
(x) Made A Bonfire On The Beach
So far: 63

Level 19
(x) Crashed A Party
(x) Have Traveled More Than 5 Days With A Car Full Of People
(x) Gone Rollerskating / Blading
(x) Had A Wish Come True
(x) Been Humped By A Monkey (actually)
So far: 68

Level 20
(x) Worn Pearls
( ) Jumped Off A Bridge
( ) Screamed "Penis" In Class (but I once got thrown out of geometry mid-term for saying, "fxxx!" when I realized I had made an early mistake in a proof, and got a "D" in the class because of it.)
(x) Swam With Dolphins
So far: 70

Level 22
(x) Got Your Tongue Stuck To A Pole/ Freezer/ Ice Cube
(x) Kissed A Fish (yes, actually; around the time I was humped by a monkey -- I wonder if there's a connection)
(x) Worn The Opposite Sex's Clothes
(x) Sat On A Roof Top
So far: 74

Level 23
(x) Screamed At The Top Of Your Lungs
( ) Done / Attempted A One-Handed Cartwheel
(x) Talked On The Phone For More Than 6 Hours
(x) Stayed Up All Night
So far: 77

level 24
(x) Picked And Ate An Apple Right Off The Tree
(x) Climbed A Tree (even had a pet one)
(x) Had / Been In A Tree House
(x) Been scared To Watch Scary Movies Alone…
So far: 81

Level 25
(x) Believe(d) In Ghosts
( ) Have had More Than 30 Pairs Of Shoes At One Time
(x) Gone Streaking
(x) field trip (huh?)
So far: 84

Level 26
( ) Played Chicken (I am a chicken, for all my bravery in the face of fright. I'm just not self-destructive -- too many real-time enemies about.
(x) Been Pushed Into A Pool With All Your Clothes On
(x) Been Told You're Hot By A Complete Stranger
(x) Broken A Bone
(x) Been Easily Amused (this is stupid?) (yes, I'm taking this stupid survey)
So far: 88

Level 27
(x) Caught A Fish Then Ate It Later
(x) Caught A Butterfly
(x) Laughed So Hard You Cried
(x) Cried So Hard You Laughed
So far: 92

Level 28
(x) Had Someone Moon / Flash You
( ) Cheated On A Test
(x) Forgotten Someone's Name
(x) Slept Naked (every night ever since I was 8, and ever since I was 11 and into yoga - it's healthier; and, sexier)
(x) French Braided Someones Hair… (this is stupid?)
(x) Gone Skinny Dipping
( ) Been Kicked Out Of Your House
So far: 97

Level 29
(x) Rode A Roller Coaster
(x) Went Scuba-Diving / Snorkeling
(x) Had A Cavity
( ) Black-Mailed Someone
(x) Been Black Mailed
So far: 101

Level 31
(x) Been Used
(x) Fell Going Up The Stairs
(x) licked a cat (haha, a "take that, cat!" moment and a bonding ritual. haha. Don't ask.)
(x) Bitten Someone (I was in 3rd grade and imagined myself a vicious beaver. Don't ask.)
(x) Licked Someone
So far: 106

Level 32
(x) Been Shot at/or at Gunpoint (terrifying, not stupid)
(x) Had sex in the rain
( ) Flattened someone's tires
(x) Rode your car/truck until the gas light came on (void question for me, I'll say say yes to both these last as I'm sure I would if I ever drove a car -- I don't. I've been in cars with partners who experienced both these questions)
(x) Got five dollars or less worth of gas
So far: 110

Repost Your Results Like This...
I've Done (110) Out Of 150 Stupid Things -- I'm sure it'd be a higher score if I were richer and could go to Paris or the other side of the world or own 30 pairs of shoes and not have to empty the gas tank or pay for my meals with pennies in a neighborhood where people pull guns on you.
Rainbow Line

This one's from Nicole out in the land of one my muses, artist Joseph Beuys in Dusseldorf:

You Are Surrealism

Dreamy and idealistic, you've created a world that is all your own.

It's very likely that you've either dabbled in drugs or are naturally trippy.

You are always trying to push beyond the boundaries of your culture and society.

You believe that art, love, and freedom can change the world.

Ha! I always said this stuff is spooky.
Rainbow Line

This one and others are from Jessica Smith who dreams her cat was a cricket and she was trying to eat him so she woke up and turned to MySpace. Jessica is another top poet high on my 2006 list of Best Po' Bloggers discovered this year. I think Jessica and I share a lot of similarities despite the obvious differences. I'm hoping to connect in real time with her at the AWP in Feb - March. (I'll be presenting on a panel on "What Does Poetry Make Happen?" or something like that.) I've been meaning to respond to a call she put out to do a group reading. I'd love to help host a free and open marathon reading & meet & greet for po' bloggers like I had planned to do last year except that I got sick and it conflicted with other readings. I'd spring for the food & publicity. We could play spin-the-bottle for a poem per person.

Q. Do you still talk to the person you lost your virginity to?
A: No -- thank the goddesses, I was attacked as a child. And no to the real one I lost my "virginity" to in a real way, although I wouldn't mind if if I did.

Q: What would you do with 1000 plastic spoons?
A: Keep stuffing them in my kitchen cabinet which is what I do now (left over from events and classes at my house) and taking them out when all the dishes are dirty -- which they are now. Otherwise, mourn their unrecycled selves. Maybe have some kind of event where a thousand people could eat, then listen to poetry and spoken word (not that there's any difference, I'm just trying to get the hits off the words). That would be cool.

Q: What kind of music did you listen to in elementary school?
A: "The Legend of Davy Crocket" "DAVY, Davy Crocket, king of the old frontier..." I can still sing it, though I don't sing it into a hairbrush in front of a mirror any more. Ironic, huh? Maybe that's where it comes, my comfort with the trope. Mitch Miller show, just about all of it starting with the Lennon Sisters, and Grand Ole Opry, Minnie Pearl and the black guy who played the harmonica. I loved Hank Williams. And the guy who sang "18 Tons and what do you get?" Peter, Paul and Mary and Sonny and Cher. My earliest favorite song, I don't remember the name of, it came in a box of hand me down stuff that somebody gave us because we were poor. It went, "Mama, look a booboo! They shout. They mother told them, "Shut up your mouth! That is your daddy!" "Oh no! My daddy don't look ugly so!" I still love it. Somebody did a cover recently. I can still sing it and often do. It has a Calypso beat and strange raced connotations, even to my ear at that age. We're talking kindergarten. Same with a song about all the meals on the days of the week called "Eatchy Peachy Pie": "Monday: meat loaf. Tuesday: Roast Beef. Wednesday: string beans... Is everybody happy? Well, I should say!" I think Sunday was eatchy peachy pie day. This makes me happy. My little red portable phonograph was always my most prized possession. I tell you, I take my soundtracks seriously.

Q: What is the best thing about your current job?
A: Teaching. I get inspired when my students write a better poem then the last. It appeals to my Chicana indigenous nature, I know I'm helping people; they get better.

Q: Do you wish cellphone etiquette was a required class upon purchasing one?
A: [I don't really care about this kind of stuff} I'll go with Jessica's answer.

Q: Are you against gay marriage?
A: no

Q: What's the most messed up food combination that you've had that was actually good?
A: not sure. I fancy myself something of a gourmand and a cross-cultural one at that, so nothing on my table seems to me to be a messed up combination.. For a while I was juicing every day, half a raw purple cabbage (which helped to heal my ulcer) along with turnip juice, watermelon, ten tomatoes (bad for my ulcer), 12 carrots, chaya leaves when I could get them from Isla, spinach, sweet onions, acai, blueberries, strawberries, etc. It was all in the balance and it actually tasted good. I ought to clean out my juicer.

Q: Have you been on a date in the past week?
A: No. Hey, T, we need to talk...

Q: Where are you going on your next vacation?
A: Where else? San Francisco, place of my birth. "I'm going away to where I'm from..." (line from my poem, On Touring Her Home Town) And, hopefully, back to Isla. My son wants to do a doc on Isla street dogs.

Q: Are most of your friends new or old?
A: new and few in the present flesh, many old friends back home and in Po'ville - hmmm, even my "new" friendships, I realize, are 16 years old, as opposed to 30-year friendships with people I don't see often enough, sadly. (I'm a bloody hermit.) I guess I tend to have few but fast friendships, mostly because, at core, I'm kinda shy and socially inept. I appreciate people who can make friends easily, like my friend, Alfred.

Q: What's one of your most random pet peeves (something that annoys you)?
A: dishonesty and unethical behavior; power-trips; and people who combine the two, like profs who think it's a fringe benefit of the job to bed students -- yeah, definitely a pet peeve

Q: Do you own any furniture from the IKEA furniture store?
A: of course not

Q: What do you wish someone would buy you?
A: Bose headphones, then maybe a Bose cd/radio sound system. I LOVE my Bose iPod dock. Otherwise, I wish someone would buy my book directly from me.

Q: What do you think of vintage shopping?
A: I think of Sandra Cisnero's bed sheets and the vintage gowns on the Oscars. Otherwise, I guess I'd be a vintage shopper if i could afford it and I weren't such an anti-materialist. I love segundas, the serendipity of it gets me every time. And the recycling.

Q: What are you wearing right now?
A: Robert karimi's T-shirt, black, "politically sexy. culturally mixed." and with "kaotic good" on the back - go to to order yours now. I love it. Couldn't wait to wear it. If I had this back when maybe I would have gotten more dates. Cuts through a lot of bull, ya know? A long flouncy black skirt with a purple stripe around it, then a wide stripe of yellow orange or gold checked patterns, then a thin one of white patterns, then more yellow checks at the final flounce, followed by a wider stripe of some kind of trippy pattern in white, then another thin purple stripe, then a pretty blue, turqouise, yellow gold blotchy pattern like an abstract expressionist painting that looks like a torn strip of painted paper ending with another stripe of the same pattern, but with more yellow orange and red in a rainbowish pattern. It's pretty, mostly black with the strong color at the hem. And a jaguar patterned silk slip over black velvet pants underneath (hey, it's cold in colorado right now!) And, barefoot.

Q: When is the last time you had Mom's home cookin'?
A: Sigh. She passed in November of '82, murdered around the time of what is now a national day of awareness of violence against women and Take Back the Night night -- which I never go to, because. She was a really good cook.

Q: Do you like your parents?
A: I liked my father, a lot. My mother had major problems.

Q: Do you ever paint your toenails?
A: yes, once.

Q: What state are you from?
A: Califas

Q: Do you ever wish you were gay?
A: [this is a very strange question...] [said andrew and i agree.] said Jennifer and I agree. A lot of good it would do me, or anyone else for that matter.

Q: Tell us about the last conversation you had.
A: talked to T about my trip to Amherst to receive the award and how I hope I can go back to work with gang girls in Holyoke, and this blog entry I'm writing in my head about what happens to you when you die -- as a friend asked me what i thought happens an the sad news that Kari Edwards died, and about how I'm coming down hard with this flu everybody had. Oops, that's not the last conversation. I just talked to my son before he went to bed about an 8th grade counselor asking him about whether or not his friends were actually in a gang and trying to get him to do "gang activites" without his knowledge. He's in sixth grade. (!) He was shocked and stunned into silence. He didn't know how to answer. I told him I thought it was a racist thing to ask him as his new and few friends are almost all the few kids of color in the richy school. I told him he should tell him that he can't be in a gang because his mother won't allow him to kill a fly and he has to take all the yellow jackets out of the house in a glass. "Tell him you can't be in a gang because we're Buddhists." We laughed. Hard. True enough, although, at heart, I'm a bloody born heathen - it's just not the native way, 'buey. I told my son I want to talk to this counselor (his eyes got big). I'm a lifelong ethical peacenik, maybe because I'm a former gang-girl who saved herself with books and who has pretty much devoted her life to anti-gang literacy advocate work. (look out for this mother!)

Q: Where do you see yourself in one month?
A: Here. Where ever I am I'm here.

Q: What is your favorite smell?
A: My father's house which is mostly a linseed oil smell mixed with corn tortilla smelling incense, sage and copal.

Q: What do people label you as?
A: [weird.] I'll go with Jessica's answer, realistically. Although I hope people realize I'm also quite goofy. Goofy and deep, I'd say.

Q: Do you consider yourself bipolar?
A: [No, that is one problem I don't have.] I'll go with Jessica's answer.

Q: What is the outside temperature at the moment?
A: I don't know. Hella cold for this California girl. I'll confess to cranking the heat up to 73 -- hey, I don't drive and my office is the coldest room in the house.

Q: Are you missing anyone right now?
A: yes, quite

Q: What does your MySpace quote mean?
A: [do i have one? i dunno.] I'll go with Jessica's answer.

Q: Elaborate on your primary photo (MySpace).
A: My publisher, Bryce Milligan took it after my first debut reading in San Antonio on October 11 (?) of last year. I'm yukking it up with old buddies so look real relaxed, and I don't know Bryce is taking pictures, so it's uncharacteristically flattering. What I always tell photographers: "If you're going to steal my spirit, at least make it flattering!" I hate fotos of me, it's the worst part of this business. I thought it was mean in a review when *some woman* commented on the 3 photos in the book; I thought it was a personal breakthrough. My last book for Arte Publico before that didn't have a single author photo -- at my request. And, the two inside pics go with a poem and one serves as a book cover for HARD DRIVE.

Q: Who introduced MySpace to you?
A: Super cool Didi Menendez of MiPo radio, CafeCafe at blogspot, Ocho magazine, et al.

Q: How many comments do you have?
A. [i don't know] Me neither.

Q: What's your current problem?
A: an unethical power-monger

Q: What are you doing right now?
A: [filling out this survey] I'll go with Jessica's answer

Q: What's one type of person that (sic) really bothers you?
A: unethical power mongers. And, liars: an unethical power-mongering liar.

Q: What's one type of person that you enjoy being around?
A: nice politically aware crosscultural extremely witty genius types who make lot of friends, like Alfred

Q: What random things make you happy?
A: the Flatirons outside my windows.

Q: If you could go back and change something, what would it be?
A: been there the night my mother was killed

Q: If you could be any animal or creature for one day, what would it be?
A: [a bird. a big one like a hawk.] haha, faked you out. One would think I'd go with Jessica's answer, after all, I *am* La Bird. But, no. An oyster. People never believe me when I tell them my totem animal is an oyster. (mmm, raw with lemon and a spot of Phil Chan's secret sauce) I think hanging in the bosom of Yemaya for one day making pearls would be heavenly.

Q: Ever had a near death experience?
A: not that I know of

Q: Name one obvious quality you have?
A: [i'm pretty smart.] I'll go with Jessica's answer.

Q: What's the name of a song that's stuck in your head right now?
A: John Mayer's "Wheel" "You can't love too much one part of it..." (repeat) (which is actually playing right this minute) was stuck in my head all this past trip so i looped it in the shuttle from the airport on the iPod last night, then have been looping it on my computer all day today, it's at about 140 repeats so far. I'll probably double that by the time I'm through. "And you won't be the first, no you won't be the first, to love me." As it ends with the line, "I believe/ my life's gonna to see/ the love I give/ returned to me."

Q: Are you happy today?
A: sort of - still way up from the great reading at Amherst with a great audience of students of color from the five campuses, but, sad, too: Oaxaca, the Phillipines, Kari, the war, and things that are none of your business.

Q: Do you believe in Heaven?
A: [imagine there's no's easy if you try...] [said andrew and i agree.] said Jessica and I agree. It's all a matrix of love. You hold it all in the trace of your loving words and deeds, that's the weave "whatever we imagine" as some poem of mine says. See the amazing account of Thomas Benedict's near-death experience if you want to know about multiple heavens and matrices of love for the wonderful beautiful beings of light and creation that we be.

Q: Who will copy and paste and fill this out first?
A: [i am curious to find out...] [said andrew and i agree] said Jessica and I agree
Rainbow Line

And, Survey 2 from Jessica, also via fellow insomniac, Andrew:

Yes. And everyone who knows me and knows will laugh when they read this as they laugh, loud, whenever I bring it up.

LOVER! And I'll fight for it.

my fear for my child

oh no, way too poor - but I am now. I always build whatever first with my son, then he takes over by making whole new cool things out of the about a million Legos he has. I've been to Legoland.

[I don't care] I'll go with Jessica's answer. Although, I was sociologically fascinated with The Swan. And I got into watching the first Joe Millionaire show because I had a strange connection to the woman who "won" the fake millionaire. I liked the class issues it brought up. I knew she would win as soon as I heard her faceless voice in the first few minutes of the first episode say in answer to completing the sentence: "The man I marry... will have a heart of gold!" Then, she turned out to be from Boulder, the poor daughter of the Tarot reader who once read my cards years ago when I first came to Boulder. I was watching those stupid shows because they were on in my house and knew that by the end of Joe Millionaire I'd leave my cheating hubby.


yes (what happened?)

Just fine, but maybe awkward at my age. But, I never seem to be long without a partner, for all my need for solitude.


No, I sing, loud, while riding my bike, though it's been a while. I sing washing dishing. I don't sing so much any more at home with my sarcastic preteen, but I do like to make up goofy relevant songs to make him laugh. Maybe that's why the dishes are always dirty now. I like to soak in the tub daily and read the paper, Oprah's O magazine, foodie mags or write.

Of course not. I don't engage in any re-creation that requires falling down.

wanna check?

Isla Mujeres. An empty beach cove, like the wee "office" I had there.


No, though it's on our movie shelf.

of course, I've been worrying about it for three decades now: lifetime nondriver

about forty sucks before I bite

no, sounds boring

yes, I'm pert'near on first name basis with the Boulder airporter shuttle clerk

[it depends on who's wearing it. and i assume you mean on men? speedo makes suits for women as well. you stupid sexist survey-maker.] I'll go with Jessica's answer. "Intelligence is the Greatest Aphrodesiac."

See my poem in From the Cables of Genocide: Poems on Love and Hunger titled "Shooting the Wren." I was once with a hunter. When I left him I let him stay in my house free of rent, and he took my five cats into a field and shot them. I like hanging with fishermen, though. Me, kill nothing, especially Spirit.

I'm married but I hope so.

weird question

as an indigenous American person living in the age of industrial food hell probably hella things: wheat gluten like my son, cow milk, sulfites, GMO corn anything (quitting "vegetable oil" and movie popcorn helped my ulcer), and my poor sweet kitty who has to live in the garage although I bring her in daily for sneezy cuddling. The better I eat, the less I remember my allergies.

today, to my son.


no, I have to admit, I've never been into weddings, including my own - I've never had one, 'though I don't know how I feel about that now

over hard and in any kind of fritata or "Spanish tortilla"

[again with the stupid sexist survey-maker] I'll go with Jessica's answer

[i have never had this problem.] I'll go with Jessica's answer

time to go to bed (nearly Jessica's answer

yes, "Bird" since I was young, but nobody calls me that now. My friend Osa got people to start calling me "Hobbit." It fit and stuck. And, "Lorna Beans Cerveza" which is funny.

[yes. oh, yes. yes. all factory farming is disgusting though.] I'll go with Jessica's answer. And add just one word, prions.

Today. A friend took me to the bank before it closed. Usually I walk.

baths, long hot ones that boil my potatoes

no, he's an invention of Coca Cola, the original drug peddling terrorists in the Americas

[i am a nocturnal creature...] [said andrew and i agree] said Jessica and I agree

maybe sugar, unless I'm in denial about it, and coffee, which may have given me my bleeding ulcer, though I've kicked it with yerba mate tea.

used to be crunchy, but I've been grinding my teeth in my sleep down to eating creamy


3 times

[that's dumb] I'll go with Jessica's answer. DUH. Natch.


yes. it was scary. I had a bad experience and would always talk people, especially women, out of it. But, it had it's moments of awe, choice and chance.

almost black, I would say black

yesterday, or, rather, the day before -- looking at the time


[i don't know. i like mine.] I'll go with Jessica's answer

yes. usually after trauma, like as a defense mechanism that kicks in. I play, "who's calling on the phone?" to about 98 % success

of course. I adore Salinger, even though he wrote about upper class twits. I've read everything at least a dozen times. I *was* Esme.

I used to. I'd like to start playing the guitar again. When I'm sixty I plan to take up the sax. I've been planing it for decades.

yes. used to. Chicano's invented skateboarding, ya know. Same Chicanos who invented surfing on old doors. What else to do with all those mismatched and broken skates you were handed down? I made one. I think. Or maybe made one with my brother.

yes! It's why I'm here although I've never ended up with a partner who'd actually take me -- one thing that's kind of hard to do alone without a car or a ride to get there and back.

no, but I have a distinctive and hardy (hearty) one

sort of, after all, I'm a bloody heathen from the Age of Discovery who believes in mind over matter: mind is matter, matter is mind.

[yes (isn't this thing over yet?)] I'll go with Jessica's answer


[yes, actually.] I'll go with Jessica's answer

she's dead, I doubt she'd care

organic greek salad with carrots and broccoli added<-- remembering to take a bite

no [(stupid sexist...)] but I'll go with this part of Jessica's answer

I like Jessica's answer.

the Nazi car commercials - what's up with that? And the car wreck ones. And, especially, those racist cave man ones -- what's up with that? I can't even figure out what they're selling. But, I think the caveman's hot.

Ages ago, gifts for the hunter guy which should be on that stupid things survey.

Maná. No, Los Lobos. No, my brother's band. No, .....
Rainbow Line

This one's from Eric who does it only because Kimberly does:

Spell your name with bands/artists.
L: Los Lobos
O: Ozomatli
R: Ray Charles
N: Natalie Cole
A: Art Pepper

-- Name: Lorna Doone Cervantes (really)
-- Birth date: Hiroshima Day
-- Nickname: Bird or Lorna Dee
-- Current Location: beneath the shadow of the Flatirons
-- Eye Color: black
-- Hair Color: black (salt & pepper, still mostly pepper) (Eric's answer, but for the black walnut shell coloring, my bow to vanity
-- Righty or Lefty: Righty
-- Zodiac Sign: Leo and Yellow Sun, Ahau

-- Black boots for walking in the snow
-- Your perfect pizza: one that my ulcer could tolerate, spelt crust, hold the tomatoes and garlic (ulcer triggers). As my grandma used to say, "I like it but it doesn't like me." Story of my life."

-- Your best physical feature: [my peepee] haha, had to leave that in as it made me laugh. I've answered this before: my healthy sexuality
-- Most missed memory: If it's a memory how can it be missed?

Hmmm, I think I've already done this one with some slight variation in the opening, so, ZAP.
Rainbow Line

That's all, folks. Can't find these surveys on the sites? Well, that's because you have to be a friend and get all these cool bulletins, notices and news from your friends as well.

I do it for distraction. I've been writing a blog post in my head late last night, when I got home from the reading & award at Amherst which I dedicated to Pedro Pietri ("without whom I would not be here right now") and all day today called "What Happens When You Die? Kari, Phillipines, Will, AIDS, Someone's Son Soltero...You" which posts a link to this AMAZING and true story of Thomas Benedict's near-death experience. The link is right above my astrologer, Kramer's link under "Allá" on the sidelinks. Read it. Print it out -- it's about 15 pages. Think about it. Love. It will all come back to you in the end -- and the beginning.

Now, do you. Send me a link. I'm nosy.

And, visit me at MySpace, my casual corner which hosts my poetry blog, "The Poems. The Whole Poem. And Nothing But the Poem."

"Unconscious Mutterings #200 On 12/04/06"

  1. Hello :: all, the biosphere is fresh.

  2. Flinstone :: flintstone, it's all the name.

  3. Corn :: Rain. Mother. Sage.

  4. Interview :: the salmon, white buffalo calf calling.

  5. Deviant :: as a bolt out of heaven, the lightning

  6. Concept :: that kills the calf. Did this happen?

  7. Bridge :: the gap. Destroy rage.

  8. Karen :: Sally. Ken. Some, winning.

  9. Encounter :: the other side, the glory, the grace.

  10. Biological :: docks in the cyclones called Love.

* Discover your secret self, brave into the cave of your subconscious at the subliminal

Sign Petition to U.S. Congress Demanding That Bush and Skull & Bones Return Geronimo's Skull

In 1975-77 I was a periodic visiting writer at Yale. I have personal knowledge from someone or people who belonged to a secret society at Yale and who traversed some secret passages into the chamber. This person or people saw the skull, and more, including Nazi regalia -- and worse. This exists and it has troubled me gravely for 30 years. Please sign this petition -- and look for and circulate a paper version as virtual signatures are just that, virtual. And please repost.
Click on 6048 to view my signature, affiliation and comment ~ Lorna Dee Cervantes

View Current Signatures
Sign the Petition

To: U.S. Congress

To the Congress of the United States of America,

In 1918, the President's grandfather, Prescott Bush, and several accomplices desecrated the grave of Apache holy man Geronimo at Ft. Sill, OK. The men removed Geronimo's head and a prized silver bridle which had been buried with him. Using acid and amid laughter, they stripped Geronimo's head of hair and flesh. They then took their "trophies" back to Yale University and put them on display in the clubhouse of the secret fraternity "Skull & Bones."

The "Skull & Bones" is a secret society founded at Yale in 1832. Its history is intertwined with that of the German Illuminati and the Nazi Party. They maintain a windowless building called "The Tomb" at 64 High Street, New Haven, Connecticut. The club's assets are controlled by a front company, The Russell Trust Association, Inc. Every year, 15 Yale juniors are "tapped" for Skull & Bones membership. They are indoctrinated into the cultish society with elaborate rituals steeped in satanic theatricism and latent homosexuality. The goal of this fraternity is to create the ultimate network of "good ol' boys" around the world. Their alumni includes Prescott Bush's son (George H. W.) and grandson (George W.) as well as heads of state and leaders of numerous intelligence agencies, trading companies, business empires and law firms.

Several years ago, a Skull & Bones member anonymously "leaked" information regarding the society and "The Tomb." This included documents and photographs. One of the documents detailed Prescott Bush's graverobbing exploits. One of the photographs was of a skull and bridle on a shelf, next to a framed photograph of Geronimo. Other sources have since come forward and confirmed that Geronimo's skull is indeed on display in "The Tomb" and considered the "mascot" of this "club" on High Street.

Although the Skull & Bones refuses to officially acknowledge their existence, members have tacitly admitted to possessing Geronimo's head. In fact, Skull & Bones members (including Jonathon Bush, the President's brother) met with Apache leaders in New York in 2000 and attempted to hand over a skull. It was obviously not the skull seen in the smuggled photograph. When this apparent substitution was exposed, the "Bonesmen" changed their story, saying the proxy skull was that of an Indian child.

The Skull & Bones then threatened legal action if the documents and photos from "The Tomb" weren't returned immediately. They apparently had second thoughts, after realizing authorities might ask questions about the apparent abundance of Native skulls kept in New Haven. However, neither skull has been returned and that of Geronimo is apparently still the official mascot of the Yale club.

We the undersigned are horrified with this display of elitist, racist witchcraft and ask Congress, with the assistance of whatever law enforcement necessary, to launch an immediate investigation into the theft and possession of human remains by the Skull & Bones society, the Russell Trust Association, Inc. and/or any members of the US Government involved, past or present.


The Undersigned
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