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Created on: May 20, 2007
A Paiute Woman's Dim Memory
Today my palms are spirits
as my fingers seek the cups
of matate hollows in the granite,
worn by fawn-fleshed girls
as they worked manzanita fruit
to paste between rocks.
No manos remain, only the mountain
explains the methods of women gone to sinew,
who came to grind their testimonies
in the memory of stone.
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Poetry: Feminine Divinity
A Paiute Woman's Dim Memory
Today my palms are spirits
as my fingers seek the cups
of matate hollows in the granite,
worn by
by Gabriel Fin
Her eyes are beautiful like jewels,
but hot enough to burn.
Her lips or soft and sweet like honey,
but contain a double edged
Written Divinity
Liberating
Inspiration.
Evaluating-
my relation with the woman who writes.
Laughing voice her…
Pen most
SONG OF THE GODDESS
"Spring free"
She whispered
Her hands were fast
I could not see them
But I heard the notes
Inseparable
Tha t
by Pegs
Eris strife, and spite, and sister
Brother's loyal devoted friend
Sows the golden seeds of discord
From
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