Supernatural Salmon

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Supernatural magical cycle feeding the people the animals forest salmon know no borders sea and stream climbing jumping flying for their dream continuing the cycle flow go throughout feed orca sea lion bear tree and man we depend on thee for the flow life it is in you spirit of migration climbing mountains for family the salmon return they have always returned to the rivers to the sea river sea waves the salmon they say you could walk across thier backs on the rivers so many so enormous so dwindled stories and pictures relay the greatness of past numbers before the slaughter yet the salmon still return their homes dammned spawning grounds blocked habitat poisioned they return magically coming and going knowing the way they know the way let us follow salmon explore return feed others build family love nature salmon feed the people the animals the forest supernaturally yet the orcas are starving and the salmon can’t find their way home they speak of the destruction in the oceans beg for our help stop pollution let us listen to the salmon support the circle of life that connects all return to the natural way heal the waters stop overfishing for the salmon when it dies the bear drops the bones and it feeds the cedar and when the cedar dies it burns and smokes the salmon they need each other and we need them its connected its natural it is supernatural to care for the forest like the salmon and we must too

Poem by Lennée Reid

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Tahlequahs Grief

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Tahlequas greif tour of the Salish Sea brought to you by pollution and apathy her mournful song sponsored by Shell and BP sung as she carries decomposing baby for nine days so far surrounded by family as they starve dying as a community travel far taking turns lifting their sorrow above all else a wake a funeral for the world to see as the scientists circle like vultures scavengers waiting to take her carcass child for testing autopsy murder poisioning no LNG its not green see whos checking the water for radiation from fukishima while we all eat salmon watch and listen on devices powered by poison so heart breaking now change the channel excuse me I have to go drive to buy some paper straws wrapped in plastic

Poem by Lennée Reid

Photo by Lori Christopher

Being a Mixed Girl

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being a mixed girl is hard every race dislikes you for different opposite ridiculous reasons I’m too quiet uppity and a know it all in the hood I’m too traumatized loud and scary for my white liberal friends my native friends just look at me sideways because they have the best manners they all ghost me being a mixed girl is hard I dont fit in or look like either side of my family so I try to find a band of misfits but those never stay together either outcasts artists healers and hippies being a mixed girl is hard I’ll never be enough for anyone black enough white enough native enough similar to anyone enough to belong being mixed feels wrong swirly fucked undecided square peg not a good fit being a mixed girl is hard I hardly even cook any of my cultures food but I make the best tacos, curry and egg rolls which is ridiculous cause I’m not Mexican, Asian or from India but their food is so much better than this American gmo garbage being a mixed girl is confusing elluding racial ambiguity shapeshifting code switching is saying “nigga” in my head daily but not letting it come out of my mouth ever is speaking a dozen versions of English each with entirely different different lexicons only liberals and geeks know the word lexicon being a mixed girl means I have no idea what i am supposed to wear or do to my body anywhere shave dont shave tattoo dont tattoo dreads no dreads what ever products to blend for my hair and just screw trying to find a foundation color cause I am literally color changing with the seasons being a mixed girl is confusing What am I? Fuck if I know! A third of family tree is question marks and lost connections secrets and new found family members pop up that no one wanted to talk about or even wanted them to live being a mixed girl is family racism one side says you should pass for anything but black and one side is victim blaming racists neither of which share my universal spiritual beliefs being mixed is a relief that I dont have to fit in or believe anything I am free to leave or be me anyway anywhere I want to I can be anything and anyone I look at the world and know I could be related to you or you and that scientifically in a room of 100 people I’m at least 20 peoples 6th cousins but it’s hard being a mixed girl because it seems I’m the only one that looks at the world of my potential cousins and thinks we should all pray together at witches match to heal yep thats just me and we should break bread together eat cause curry tacos with kimchi are delicious really I make em all the time its not that hard

Poem by Lennée Reid

Listen to my spoken word album “The Second Coming of Matriarchy” on bandcamp

My Ideal Date

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My ideal date will feed me organic free range wild food he gathered, that I didnt cook and wont have to clean up after. This time. He will impress me with his skills and mind. Similar yet different to mine. Will take me places I’ve could never find alone. Treat me better than I do. My perfect date appreciates the environment, and theatre too. Respects all my boundaries through and through. He is mature, picks up my signals, extremely smart, kind, patient and generous. Loves music and art. My ideal date wants some fire in his life. He has a good heart. Is secure and looking for a goddess with a lot of spirit. Maybe even a wife. Wants an intelligent woman who will make a difference in the world with him, build something beautiful, change lives. Pick a date to begin that will last for the rest of time. My ideal date understands me. He pulls half the load. Animals and babies love him cause he should be worshiped and adored. He will plan good surprises I love and have a fun family Olivia and I belong in. My ideal date will be relaxing, feel like home, a breath of magic. Soon. I’m ready. Waiting. My king is just a little late. Wish I knew where to meet my ideal date.

Seasonal Cascadian Migrations

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Seasons of Cascadia

The mist begins to lift from both forest and sea. An occasional ray of sunshine peeks over My Rainier. A lenticular cloud hovers over the mountain, freaking out everyone but the locals. Cherry blossoms bloom. It’s the fabled socks and sandals weather complete with vernal rainbows. For the first time in 8 months, skies clear completely, not one cloud showing its face for all of pride week. Perfect weather continues with GEESE! Then 12 straight weeks of drought for canoe journey and festivals is great for recreation, but causes 4 weeks of wildfires at least… so we begin praying for rain? Really? Lovely autumnal rainbows welcome the waters return. Refreshing drops keep dousing flames as we gather around campfires to eat apple and kale salad. HONK….GEESE AGAIN! Then a month of incessant torrential downpour. The salmon return. Think its clear? Dry? No. Black ice! Rain again alternating with freezing fog and what we like to call spit. Freezing rain scatters through those 3 cold weeks with pretty morning frost when it snowed twice and somebody reports a sasquatch sighting on KING5. 1 inch of snow. School closures. Then. Yeah! Our 3 days of Christmas snow came we can go sledding this year! Then. Hurricane force wind storm complete with friendly snow cone hail and free firewood. Next comes floods and mudslides. The rest of the rainy season is mountain snow, valley still effing raining causing moss and mold to grow everywhere followed by you guessed it another straight month of little bitty stinging rain that just never quite completely stops dripping off everything making things moist and damp every freaking where. People wander in a sleepy grey daze holding trays of soy lattes from Starbucks and bottles of vitamin D3. Seasonal affective dementors return for their yearly migration. The squirrels are phased by none of this and always look happy.

15 Reasons I secretly think are really why people dont want to book me or let me speak.

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15 Reasons I secretly think are really why people dont want to book me or let me speak.

#1 They’re smiling like a racist that doesn’t want to ask me to leave or go to jail for saying something to my face.
#2 They’re threatened cause I have more talent in my pinky finger.
#3 They’re ignorant and haven’t heard of any of the people who endorse me who are more qualified than them to decide if I’m amazing.
#4 People are jealous petty and average.
#5 There’s some secret white economic apartheid rule about not hiring or paying POC and making us beg. I may have to go undercover at some point to prove this.
#6 They dont book people with out degrees, even though #2
#7 Don’t know what performance poetry is.
#8 The group is too atheist, humanist, and sciency and say I sound like magical crap.
#9 The group is too abundant and spiritual and I’m too loud, angry and poor.
#10 People are fake as fuck and full of bullshit.
#11 I’m brain damaged and autistic. Why should I thrive? Who wants to pay for that?
#12 “Not a good fit” for your event that has no poets or POC speaking on your topic. I think this is code for #1
#13 Its 3 to 10 minutes. If you can’t give a disabled impoverished POC single mom 3 minutes you’re a piece of crap like everyone else that won’t give us an inch of space.
#14 Cliques.
#15 Power trips.