This past Monday, I participated in a public protest against efforts by a local group to ban more than 200 “inappropriate” books from the libraries in our school district. (Think Native Son by Richard Wright. Beloved by Toni Morrison. To…
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What follows isn’t a poem. It’s a playful inventory of basic intentions that guide my creative work—indeed, my daily living. It sets forth how I aspire to conduct myself as a “maker” and as a…
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What follows is a “found poem.” To create it, I took lines from a story I’d read this week on Braided Way and rearranged them into a poem, leaving the words mostly verbatim. I want to thank…
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FISHING FOR WORDS for creatives who write You stand on the edge of a shallow lake, casting your line, waiting for bites— some days, not a nibble.…
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THE SECRET OF BIRDS Phyllis Cole-Dai Outside the window, an hour before dawn, when night weighs heaviest on the neck of the world, one bird with pluck begins to sing I’m here I’m here I’m…
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NAMES WILL CARRY Phyllis Cole-Dai for Wanda and Tom I carry your names into the mountains you loved, though mountains have no need of names— they know each pilgrim that passes through by scent…
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On this Mother’s Day in the US, you may be celebrating a special someone in your life who has “mothered” you or whom you yourself have had the privilege of “mothering.” My young chap, Nathan,…
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Yeah, yeah, I know. Mother’s Day in the US isn’t until next week. But when I began this poem, I didn’t know it was going to be about mothers. Or about tree rings. That’s the beauty of…
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A brief roundup for May, as I'm currently out of studio, traveling with Jihong and Nathan. We're on a whirlwind roadtrip to North Carolina, Virginia, and Washington, DC. Once we get back to South Dakota,…
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My Latest Books
