Pudgy Indian

It is a humid and cold morning. I loved crossing the bridge and seeing the very choppy water as the winds blew frost into my fingers as I held my racist cigar. The water is so choppy it looks like the big waves are actually heading up river as they dance with the street lights. The tiny waves look like they're going in down river. I look from my offering space and see the river flowing strong in the red light between me and her. The river, she looks like she is flowing both ways.

A (MIXED) BAG OF TRICKS

A white auntie read my book.
She didn't say she hated it,
but she did say I sure was angry
and mentioned to my sister
that I'm half white as well.

At the annual white family reunions
a younger cousin
encouraged by his white grandma
would ask me all sorts of questions.
"Do you have a horse?"
"No."
"Do you have a bow and arrow?"
"No."
"You're not a real Indian."

But I must be a real Indian
because when my white grandparents celebrated christmas
the white grandkids would have a separate holiday
where the white grandparents bought them expensive gifts
and they were told not to tell us.
Us Indian kids got gifts worth less than a dollar.
If they really believed us to be white
wouldn't we have gotten similar gifts?
Being half white,
wouldn't that entitle us
to gifts that were
half as expensive?

Being half white
can I go to half of the KKK meetings?
half of the skinhead rallies?
half of the aryan brotherhood meetings?
could my white half
kill my Indian half
and take half of my land?

If I went to boarding school,
would the priests have only
stuck it in half way?

When I sit in a room
full of white people I don't know,
I wonder which ones want to kill me
for being a darkie
in the midst of their all white privilege.
Would being half white
save half my ass?

I could do my best to pass
cut my hair
dye it blonde
bleach my skin
only to have some white guy find out
and ask why I don't honor my heritage.

Here in the land of alleged freedom
I am not allowed to be who I am.

Louisiana, I've heard
has a one drop law.
If you have one drop of black blood
you are all black.

I'm an Indian
'til you become uncomfortable
and you'll remind me I'm part white
but I'll still never benefit
from white privilege.

Blood quantum is a white thing
and it doesn't mean shit.
Indians will put me in a box too
though not to the extent whitey does.

It's so odd
to have others define my race
for their own convenience.
Once I'm confined
into the porper box
it's easier to find me
in the cross hairs
find where I live
put me on a train
in a box car
with the last of us.

I can sit
in a room full of Indians
and feel accepted.
Remember what I said
about the room full of white people?
I can never forget.

Hidalgo was a mixed blood horse
with a mixed blood Indian.

When I saw things in a meditation
my mixed blood friend
said it dealt with mixed blood feelings
mixed blood
charging forward
pushing forward
getting up and moving forward
mixed blood.

"Hold to the quarter blood quantum..."
Define them out of existence.
White man mathematics.

My seventh grade social studies teacher
told my whole class
there are no "real" Indians left.
Even if my white half
declared in its white superiority
that my Indian half
was defined out of existence
I still couldn't join
the kkk.

It's not your blood
but how you live.

Can you tell
which half of me is white?
Maybe if you felt around.
"YOU SAVAGE!"
Should I rip off your bodice
now?
Isn't that what mixed bloods do
to captive white women?

Mixed bood
means I'm impure,
unclean,
partially human,
not human at all.

I know who I am
and while you are busy
trying to cram me
into your boxes
to define for yourself
who and what I am,
I'll still DEMAND it all back.
I'll still DEMAND what's right.

Put that in a box
and stick it in your closet.

SINGLES AD

Spirit made it clear to me
that I am single by choice.
(I should have stayed
and gotten her phone number.)

I'm 42
and still have no idea
how to do this.

There are about
half a dozen women
I'm interested in.
Though they are friendly to me
it doesn't mean
they're interested back.
How do you tell?

The woman waved at me
to get my attention.
I waved back
and still left
like a fool.

I drop tiny hints,
none of which are taken.

I'm told there are women intereseted in me,
but not enough
to pass a phone number
or want to have coffee with me.

How does this work?
What do I do?
I have no idea.
so I go home
alone
everynight.

Eh!
What does one do?
I don't feel lonely
or alone.
But it would be nice
to feel you in my arms.

SINGLES AD

One Indian
slightly used
pudgy
fairly good condition
likes to hold hands
go on hikes
write poetry
attend ceremonies
activism
make radio and TV
wants a Revolution
Laughs a lot
Loves Che and wears che hats, socks, and shirts

seeking woman
who'll Love me back
for a change
temporary? part-time? full-time? lifetime?
If you want
we can take the time
to find out.

Intersted parties just
tap the Indian on the shoulder
and say "hello."

Pot and chocolate
wouldn't hurt, either.