Morning Light, below the Cimarron Sun rays hold the spirits Comanche mothers loved --- be still, let the bright wind lift them homeward.   What the Klamath Tribesman Told Me For us there is no death. Life is a cloud, raining for a day: this is how oceans make clouds. Melted from an ice-ledge, mixed in the leafy green shadows along a stream --- that's good water.

Return to the front page of this issue:   Amaze   Vol. 5, No. 4   Go to the Poets & Authors page for the poet's biographical sketch and email link. All poems are copyright © 2007 by their respective authors.