Mail (day 2367)

Letter’s in the mail to a woman I’ve never met
Confessed it all in one fifteen letter script
Could this have just been a trick?
Sloppy like the moon on a dreary midnight
A newly appointed butler hanging upon my every word
Carried it too far for I’m an ant within the bathroom
Headphones on a slow bus lost in darkness
Two beats I keep tapping on the wooden sided seat
I’m still working on a better wrong
And tomorrow I’m going to have a word with the mailroom.

Forgotten (day 2284)

How does one continue to live
In a place that’s forgotten your touch
In a world where unfamiliar hearts
Enslave a name that’s no longer known.
How does one let go
Of a T-shirt you used to wear
Of hair bands you’ve left behind
And a smell that used to be present.
At the grocer yesterday
An unknown woman walked by
With a forgotten fragrance
Who smiled as she picked up
A package of frozen peas.
Yet wounds are still swelling
Bruises still glow with a cold feeling
That a forgotten fabric
Has been set aside from imagination
And two long lines separate the distance
Of once was and what’s now.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXXI (day 2035)

(part XXXXXX)

Every day we could feel the weather warming up
But we could also feel our spirits rising
Spring came early
We felt heaviness of Winter
Seep out of our teepee
With every cleansing steam inside
And Willow would burn sage brush
Helping evil spirits escape.

I looked for every way to show Willow
Love that I had for her
And so did Lily
I think it was a team effort
We kind of all knew that nothing ever was the same
But we still wanted Willow back
And she came back to us
After a bit of a spell away,
For a few days she left
With warm blanket and clothes
To where we didn’t really need to know
But when she returned
She was a new woman
A proud woman, an invigorated woman
A hungry woman,
And we all still loved her
And ate to celebrate the change.

She told me one night
Soon after that
That she had a vision
From her mother
Telling her that:
As the sky must cry
To empty it’s weight
So too must the heart.

It shocked me a little bit
To learn that Willow felt unworthy
Of the love that I gave her
For what had happened
To our baby
But I reassured her it wasn’t so
That no matter what
I loved her
And with this
She looked me in the eyes for a long time
And finally exclaimed:
My Love, Big Arrow –
A name she had started to affectionately
Call me after she learned
Of Lily’s and mine’s first meeting
So many moons ago now
When she had given me her little arrow
And I to her: my heart –
I don’t know where you came from
And I do hope you stay a while
You are a good man
Better then most
Your kindness I could never match
And for that, I am yours,
Until the moon stops to shine
And the Sun falls asleep.


Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXVI (day 2020)

(part XXXXV)

During this time of the cold season
I became well acquainted with the myths and legends
Of the Blackfoot
One of my favourite
Was always of the Old Man, Or Na-pe,
He was a common figure in all of the legends
As the first human alive.

One day, he was sitting by his fire
And thinking to himself that he was lonely
He was restless and lonely
He looked around and tried to console himself
With the things that he had
He had a good stick to be poking the fire with
He had a good teepee to be living in
That needed no repair
He had more then enough furs around him
And he had a big buffalo just killed
To feed him for a good long time
He had almost everything he could want,
Why was he restless and lonely?

His only companion, A-pe’si the Coyote
Was very nice to have around
But right now
Was off scheming on his own
He was nice to have around
But always with his schemes
That just didn’t make sense to Old Man.

Old Man packed his pipe and lit it
And then paced around the fire for some time
Thinking: “It would be nice to have somebody to smoke with
Somebody to talk to
Somebody like me,”
And went back to smoking his pipe
“Why not!? I’m the Old Man
I can do anything I want!”

So, Old Man set about his own scheming
First he gathered lots of clay around
Then he started feeling his whole body over
Taking very careful note of each bone in his body
How it felt, how it was shaped
How many of them were in his body
And meticulously went to work
Forming each bone he had in his body with the clay
Once these were all done
He put them into the fire to harden
After he let them sit in the fire long enough
He carefully pulled them out
One by one.

Now Old Man sat with two piles of bones in front of him
One of the piles was all the perfect bones
That had come out of the fire as he had designed them
But the other pile was filled with all of the broken ones
That had split or bent inside of the fire
With the perfect bones
He began to tie the bones into their proper place
Mimicking his own body
He tied the bones together with Buffalo sinew
And he then smoothed them with Buffalo fat
On top of this he then padded some clay mixed with Buffalo blood
And then stretched over the entire frame
Buffalo skin taken from the inside of the Buffalo.

With his mannequin in front of him
He smiled: “Not perfect, but it’s pretty good,”
Poking a bit at some of the crooked pieces
Perhaps he could have thinned it out here
Or tied it a little better with sinew there
So he picked up the man he had made
Blew smoke into his eyes, nose, and mouth
And he came to life
The Old Man asked him if he’d like to sit by the fire
Where he puffed some more on his pipe
And then passed the pipe to the man and said:
“I will make some more,”
And went to collect some more clay
To make some more men.

All day long Old Man worked
Forming more bones from clay
Putting them into the fire
Carefully taking each bone out of the fire
And tying them together with Buffalo sinew
Patting on Buffalo fat to smooth them out
Then a layer of Buffalo blood mixed with clay
And finally stretching Buffalo skin over the entire frame
He sat every one of them down by the fire
And blew smoke into their eyes, nose, and mouths
And left a very big pile of broken bones
Beside the fire.

So now Old Man had some company
Men to hunt with, to sit and smoke his pipe with
To talk with, and they all lived
In his teepee and another teepee he had built
He enjoyed the new life so much
That he began to get lazy
And never threw the broken bones into the river
Like he had intended to do
Every time anybody came or went to the fire
They had to pass by the big pile of broken bones
And this became quite a nuisance to them
They would trip over them frequently
Causing the pile to fall over
Which then had to be picked up and placed neatly again
Each night the wind blew through them
Making the most dreadful of noises.

By this time A-pe’si the Coyote had returned
And he walked around
Inspecting everything that had been done
While he was gone doing whatever it was he was doing,
He didn’t much like the men
And stuck his nose up at them
Saying to Old Man:
“Your handiwork has a little bit to be desired,”
But Old Man knew A-pe’si and just laughed.

A-pe’si also pointed out the pile of bones
“Surely you could do something with the pile of bones here
Why don’t you make another man?”
“Alright alright, I will make more men,”
So Old Man and A-pe’si went to work
Clicking and rattling the bones
As they tried to piece them together
Then tying them all together with sinew
And using Buffalo fat to smooth them over
Adding clay mixed with Buffalo blood on top
Then stretching skin from inside of a Buffalo over it
When Old Man had started
He knew only of man to make and that’s what he was doing
But at every moment he did something
A-pe’si would come and change it a little bit
And so back and forth they went
Until it was done
And they both stepped back
Looking at what they had created
Old Man lit his pipe and thought
It wasn’t what he had created before and was skeptical
Yet Old Man still blew smoke into its eyes, nose, and mouth
And the woman came to life.

A-pe’si and Old Man worked all day
Tying together the rest of the broken bones
With sinew from the Buffalo
And covering it with Buffalo fat to smooth it out
Then molding it together with clay mixed with Buffalo blood
And finally stretching over all of the bones
Skin from the inside of a Buffalo
And after they finished each one
Old Man would blow smoke into its eyes, nose, and mouth
And each woman would come to life.

When all of the bones were tied together
And made into women
Old Man said: “When I made the men
I set them all by the fire”
But as Old Man and A-pe’si walked over to the fire
The women all began to talk amongst each other
A-pe’si smiled and was very pleased with what he had done
And Old Man shrugged his shoulders and lit his pipe
And sat down at the fire and began to smoke it.

So it is known
That even to this day
If you have a fire around
The men will all prefer to sit by the fire
And smoke their pipes
And the women will all gather together
And talk with themselves
To this day it is not known
Whether this is because of how the bones
Clicked and rattled
Pieced together from broken ones
Or because A-pe’si,
Who is a noisy animal by nature,
Had a part in their making.


Moon at Midnight – Part XXXII (day 2006)

(part XXXI)

Each day I fell more and more in love with Willow
Not to be overlooked was sweet Lily
But Willow was my woman and I her man
And everyday we learned each other more and more
She was patient with me when I needed to learn
Something that most of the young scouts knew naturally
But she could see the desire in my eyes
And she always believed in me
I can only imagine it isolated her a little bit
From the rest of her family
Falling in love with a white man
But then again
Her and Moon Cow were always kind of unique.

She was a good woman
And provided for me in a way I could have never imagined
We grew with each other
And I’m sure I wasn’t like the men she knew, like Lily’s father
We didn’t quite fully understanding each others ways
Expectations of our own cultures
But we were both very patient and considerate
Which allowed us to subtly learn and adjust
To fit.

At night I would lie with her
Smelling her warmth next to me
Feeling her breathing upon my chest
Listening to words she did not speak
But a deep comfort she exuded
She was as kind and interested in me as I her
And our passion frequently overtook us
As the coals on the fire deeply tingled asleep
As the first birds of day sang sweetly.

We would often walk through the forest by ourselves
Looking for herbs or vegetables or roots
Anything really, mostly for ourselves
We would hold hands and stop by little streams
Or our favorite viewpoints
Or little meadows with wild flowers growing tall
And make love to each other
Without restraint, wildly,
And cleanse each other in the refreshing water
After we had enjoyed the buzz
And warm sun on our bodies.



Moon at Midnight – Part VI (day 1980)

(part V)

As my footsteps changed slope from uphill to downhill
I crested into a new valley
It was a particularly notable valley cresting
For the view I was afforded stretched from tip to bow
At the far end I could see a tail of smoke rising steady
Hovering for some time at the cloud line
Making its ever looming presence felt
As I looked down and stepped between the pebbles
Dodging in and out of the single-path trail I had been following.

My memory floated back to a woman I once had known
A woman whose smile touched the very essence of a man
Changing him instantly to a friend, forever
I had last seen her walking out of the tack store
In preparation to depart with a fresh pack of jerky
And enough rice to keep me a while,
She had asked where I was off to
And I told her what had honestly come to mind
I shared with her my dream of this land
With leaves the size of a horses head
With trees that bled sugar and turned as red as wine
She looked at me and shaked her head
Scolding that all us men ever want is our devil juice
I explained to her it wasn’t so,
She smiled and knew she was scolding the wrong man
I asked her if she would like to join me
An honest man on an honest journey
To a land beyond, to the East
But she had only replied in jest
Saying: “Honey, I’ve got too many mouths to feed.”

I started at a cracking branch
To my left, not 7 meters away,
I looked and staring back at me
Was a moose, hovering way above my head
He was looking straight at me
Antlers standing so tall and proud
Chewing on a tuft of a shrub
That hung down from the left side of his mouth
He snorted softly as he stared at me
Demanding I respect his space
I nodded back, gave a grunt
And quickly scanned the nearby forest
For any signs of a calf around.

My footstep didn’t stop
Rather, they kept along the trail I went
My heart beating loudly in my cool breath
The words of many an elder echoed in my mind:
“Moose are more aggressive then bears.”
I instinctively touched the blade
That rested at my hip
Foolish to think that such a weapon
Could disengage such a large beast so strong
I couldn’t feel the beast charging
Though I looked to check just in case.

I didn’t relax until I was over the next bend
Which didn’t take long to get
The familiar sound of a creek returned to my ears
No longer wise words warning and uncontrolled heartbeat
Echoing through my every breath
I softly observed the old man’s beard
Growing thicker as I descended into the valley below
Moss crawling higher up trunks of the silent giants
Experienced woods folk always say
That the birds will all be silent when there’s a predator around
So the light whistling of the forest’s inhabitants
The unique call of a raven
Calmed my senses once again.

When I reached a small opening
I dipped my hands in and splashed the fresh creek’s water
To my face, to wash the cold sweat that had gathered
I recognized bear droppings
A short distance from where I sat to rest
Looking at least a week old now
No danger for me, at least for the present
But a sign that they are around
And perhaps some tasty berries, too.

part VII


My Arbutus Tree (day 1789)

I’ve wasted the jewels of my heart
On my arbutus tree, left
As bark peels my solemn movements
Into a windy road
Lightly misting with a dark mystery
Of dusk setting in
After a long day traveled.
I cannot see for the light,
I cannot hear for the wind,
I cannot feel for my fingers
Have started to scratch too idle
At my knees, left
So bare of a kind woman’s touch
And settled on my mind
With gnarled wisdom in the spine
Of my arbutus tree.

Coffee Outside (day 1702)

I dream of a woman that will some day come,
Who will lead me outside, first thing,
Warm cup and blanket in tow,
And a feeling inside so deep
There’s no leaving now.
There’s no leaving a woman who holds on as I hold,
No fear of a feeling wrong, danger done,
Only growing compassion as I’m sipping,
Tangled up in conversation that has me
Growing weary of everything else;
A haven from the snowstorm and I’ve got a warm fire,
And most else all fades like the blizzard that blows.

God (day 1353)

Dear George,

It’s been two years since I last heard from you,
I’ve been wondering if there’s been some trouble
Flirting the edges of your peaceful existence
I’ve always known you to have.

How is Martha? Cindy and I always chat about how lovely
Of a woman she is – and of course you are, my friend.

I frequently think back to our college days.. Do you?
Do you remember that night we sat on the patio at the Gate
And drank ourselves silly?
I think you were going downtown to some punk bar
Which I accompanied you on.
Do you remember jumping into/over that tree, down the drop?
I’m surprised we didn’t break bones doing that.
How big was that drop? Must have been about 5 feet or so..

Of course you have memories. I think we’ve talked about this before.

My heart is humble these days, perhaps it’s my inner peace,
Perhaps it’s also my slow submission towards some light.
I see that light in you when we come and visit.
Do you know what I’m talking about?
I find myself believing more and more in the spiritual world,
In listening to energy around us.. I think it’s only in my nature
To want to also influence the energy around us,
But if you ask me, this is dangerously close to necromancy.
Well, that or being God.

We’ve never talked about God before. What is your God?

Hope all is well my friend. I look forward to hearing from you.


Your ol’ friend,

Hermann Flicke