Untitled (Acrilyc 30"x24")

Urban Teachings II (Acrilyc 36"x16")

Urban Teachings III (Acrilyc 36"x16")

Mother Earth

I’m an Indian
Trying to wrap his braids
Around Portage and Main
Winnipeg, Manitoba

I stand at the corner
The wind blows my hair
Whipping strands like a hurricane

I’m blinded
By the sun reflecting
Off the windows of buildings
Scrapping jagged scars
Into the sky
Bleed down
On to the sidewalk

I fall to my knees
Place my ear on the cement
Trying to hear
You heartbeat
Instead

I hear
Steel pipes clanging
Hissing
Digging their claws
Into your skin
Penetrating deeper
Releasing
Sewage
Into your skin

Unseen
Ignored
By white eyeballs
Who look at you
As an Indian prostitute
Willing to go down
For $20 bucks a hit

I want to hold you
In my arms
Allow my body
Turn to dust
Letting wild wind
Carry my remains
Like dandelions seeds
Unto the Earth

But, there’s this city
Crawling over your skin
Disallowing you
Fresh air
To breath
Disallowing you
sunlight
and honey brown skin

If I could
I would take you back
Where you belong
In legends passed
From generation to generation
I would take you back
Where you would be free
To lay underneath stars and northern lights
I would take you back
Where you would be loved
For the nourishment you give
And celebrated for each birth
That happens in spring

Mother Earth

I love you