Where there is one singing bird though there may be twenty asleep in the mango tree
Where there is sleek, urgent promise in your umber eyes
Where there is a room without clocks
Where there is a country without boasting or guns
Where there is enough rice
Where there is a dress of plumeria and no need for shoes
Where there is dawn.
There you are.

c Joy Harjo July 21, 2005 Honolulu


There are more Creeks in California than in Oklahoma!

JULY 23, 2005

12 NOON TO 6 P.M.
Hosted by the California Muscogee (Creek) Association

Our Guests are
Principal Chief AD Ellis
Second Chief Alfred Berryhill
National Council Members
Muscogee Judge Pat Moore
Chief of Staff Mike Flud
Executive Director Claude Sumner
The Higher Education Department
Citizenship Office Roberta Haney
The Election Office
Cultural Advisor Timmy Thompson
Community Services Director Della Cherry
And many others.
This is an excellent opportunity to gather information from
Directors of each department.

This is a Pot-Luck Event.
Please bring your lawn chairs and a good attitude.

See you there!

I will see you there if I can catch a stand by ATA flight.


The Creek Nation Day Care Staff and Children during my last visit home, July 7, 2005, Tulsa.

Triplopia, Mars, Grief, and General Dancing Around

It's appropriate I suppose that I'm included in the "Noise" Issue of Triplopia!

And Mars will either get you up and moving or destroy.

Working on my noise out here on the island: Yes, it's beautiful and I can see the Pacific from here. I've written all morning, transacted business, called my mother, emailed, had a phone conference and now hooking up my mic to record some station ID's, practice sax and work on music before I head out to buy a rubber snake for a presentation I'm doing for kindergarteners tomorrow, and to go to paddling practice. Sounds efficient, doesn't it? I blew most of yesterday, taken down by grief. Went to the gym and lifted and biked to blow off the monster, finished a poem or at least a draft (following) and rewrote part of an interview. (I have a hard time being asked direct questions. I waffle around in a chaotic manner. Writing puts things in order.) Rabbit, for those who don't know, is the trickster being, who leapt forth at creation.

O little earthquake of the heart
One night of excessive tears and the house our family built slides to the sea
Either we gather the night sheets about us and make a sail
Or we go down to our knees and gather the sticks and broken dishes
And stack it up again, a humble roof to greet the sky.
It might happen again, yes: the corn, the stones, the eagle.
The heart shake and the earth fall.
Or the sea will rise up as a fist and slam the burning mountain, yes.
One compassionate being will supplant another.
An angry beast will tear it all away.
So what does it matter,
Rabbit asks, as Rabbit dances over the rift
Between white peace and a red and wrathful earth.
Cry then, or go get a hammer and a hand of nails.

c Joy Harjo July 18, 2005 Honolulu


Triplopia: Volume IV, Issue 3: Noise

In physics, it is a disturbance that obscures the
clarity of a signal; in computer science, it is
meaningless data; to our ears, it is a sound of any
kind, from music to the faint sound of breath, from
static to oral poetry, from rhythm to tone, and all
the sounds in between -- this summer, Triplopia
invites you to listen closely as we take on Noise.

This issue, Triplopia Spotlights award-winning poet,
musician and screenwriter, Joy Harjo. Join us as we
discuss the fusion of oral and written poetry, the
responsibility of the poet, and the way music
penetrates us all.

Enjoy more from Joy Harjo in our Feature section,
where she explores American Indian mythology with her
prose poem, "The Crow and the Snake." Also in
features, Noman Ball discusses poetic voice in his
essay, "Authentic Voice: A Catalog of Discontents,"
and the gifted Brian F. Laule explores a loss of the
senses in his short story, "The Eyes that Jewel Our

In the Poets section, discover the various ways in
which poets utilize sound as we welcome original and
innovative poetry from Arlene Ang, David Benson, John
Bryan, Robert Klein Engler, Laurie Mazzaferro, Damon
McLaughlin, Barbara Taylor, and Andrena Zawinski.

In Triplopia's Reviews, Tania Van Schalkywk delves
into both the beauty and the horror of noise as she
interviews several successful writers in this issue's
TripPicks. Uncle Flatboot evaluates poetry websites
which contain "unexpected brilliance" -- read along as
Tryst, The Alsop Review, and Slow Trains Literary
Journal fall under the watchful gaze of Paul Sonntag.
And, Triplopia editor Gene Justice analyzes the
relationship of audience and text throughout the
poetry of Catherine Daly and Bobbie Lurie.

Featured artwork includes visual noise from the lenses
of Ola Badola, Jeff Crouch, Stephen Gibson, Jamie Gil,
Manolis Kanakis, Lucretious, Carlos Paes and Julie

Finally, the Yawp's neighbor has almost driven him to
sustain his brain in a vat of beer. Find out why in
this edition's Barbaric Yawp.

Sizzle! The theme of the autumn edition of Triplopia
is "Heat." Show us a little smoke and fire by
submitting artwork, prose and poetry by September 1st!
See current issue for guidelines (
http://www.triplopia.org ).

--Gene Justice and Tara A. Eliott
Editors of Triplopia

The Red Planet is about to be spectacular!

This month and next, Earth is catching up with Mars in an encounter that
will culminate in the closest approach between the two planets in
recorded history. The next time Mars may come this close is
in 2287. Due to the way Jupiter's gravity tugs on
Mars and perturbs its orbit, astronomers can only be
certain that Mars has not come this close to Earth
in the Last 5,000 years, but it may be as long as
60,000 years before it happens again.

The encounter will culminate on August 27th when
Mars comes to within 34,649,589 miles of Earth and
will be (next to the moon) the brightest object in
the night sky. It will attain a magnitude of -2.9
and will appear 25.11 arc seconds wide. At a modest
75-power magnification



Sorry for the repeated Earthquake post. Strange, but can't delete the extras. The effect like an earthquake.


This morning crossing Ke'ehi Lagoon Park I heard the earth speak. It was a cry, an ache, a sweeping sound, huge, larger than human sound spectrum. It stops me for a moment in my journey across the field from the regatta to the toilet. I think that I am imagining it, then I know I'm not imagining it as I feel the arc of resonance. The five o'clock news reports an earthquake on the Big Island about that time. Then it makes sense.

There have been several earthquakes on the Big Island, it seems. "No connection between them", cites the reporter. He's quoting scientific sources.



Seven A.M. in Albuquerque, New Mexico

It's almost seven a.m. Albuquerque time. Waiting for the shower then will pack up my sister's van, check out and then begin the drive to Oklahoma with everyone else who will be traveling during the highest traveling weekend in the history of the U.S.. How do "they" know these things? Last night the room was filled with children and birthday cake. My granddaughter Desiray turned nine years old. We came back to the room for cake and gifts after dinner at Sadies, one of the best local Mexican restaurants. This morning there's only the hum of the air conditioner. Quiet, relative. I still find my spirit lingering in Peru, along the Amazon, in the Sacred Valley. And some of it is here. When I drive these streets I am driving memory. Over there I'm pushing a stroller filled with laundry, over there I jumped out of Geary's VW several of us were packed in after leaving the bar and took off running. I played several times in this hotel with Poetic Justice at different conferences. This morning there's relative peace. I'm working on a new song, looking for the right chords on the guitar. This one started with the melody. Called "Fly Away". I am closer to death than I've ever been, though may be death has always been riding my shoulder. My friend M.C. left us last Tuesday. She told me to pray for her release when I asked her what I could do for her the week before: me calling from Hawaii, her body shutting down in Studio City, CA. I was told her spirit filled the room when she lifted out of the wreck of her body. She was ecstatic, then she left. I will miss talking planetary geometry with her. In my dreams I applied for medical school, was writing a letter to admissions as to why I should be admitted with my background. A female doctor asks me to sew up her hand because it needs to be done now. She has no painkiller. I say yes. A tendon is loose, flying. I thread the needle. This was one of my early dreams, why I went to college. This is the road. All of it.