Rise early from a dream:
pummelling an antic German
who disrupted rehearsal
for a musical film.Straddling his chest,choking him, revile him as a Nazi. He ages
beneath my fingers which will not
grip and hurt as I wish.He loses hair, vigor, color. Shifting
shape beneath me like pudding in a sock.
Bowing, offerring incense at my altar.A card with my father's name above
his photo marks the day--
Somber suit, beloved Harvard tie,
ghost of crimson in a world of black and white.
He accepts my gratitude,
Apologies, with compressed lips,
Sorrow rises between us like a mist.
Dead 31 years
I still don’t know
what he wantedfrom me or his life.
The past is fog. My errors and faults
boulders in the path
shouldering the mist aside
marking a dim, further pass to cross.
Dreaming, waking, I bow
to the dark rocks; beg forgiveness
offer Buddha my rage.
Causes Peter Coyote Supports
The Global Security Institute, Native Sovereignty Issues, Wild Earth( Natural Corridors Program),