They’d been there 10,000 years:
Caddo, Natchez, Atakapa, Chitimachan, Muskogean, Tunican and more
fishing on fertile flood plains.
Sapphire-skied summer day three months long;
Sunflower, squash, beans and maize.
Time began one colorless day in 1519,
dragged in by the hungry blue-eyed wolves:
Longing for the country of my birth,
almost didn’t hear the brook
quietly making its way
over the rocks.
Freedom Voices, 1992
At this very moment
and anti-revolutionary liberals
debate what’s the matter with the places
they’ve never been to,
And what if we interrupted
the phosphorescent faces
that calmly assess our fate?
By Margot Pepper From forthcoming book, the Acrobat and Other Stories for Dark Times In memory of Rachel Corrie The swans knew the sun had set. They retreated under the bridges to tuck necks under wings in slumber, and it was another exodus of light: the departure of brilliant white leaving only the dismal colors of dusk—the mercurial river, clouds… Read more →
By Margot Pepper From forthcoming book, the Acrobat and Other Stories for Dark Times For Piri Thomas, a muse to so many of us The Bay surrounded the runway on three of four sides, agitated, black as obsidian with reflections of moonlight like the small fingernail-shaped indentations in an ancient arrowhead. Across the expanse of darkness, the bracelet of lights… Read more →
By Margot Pepper From forthcoming book, the Acrobat and Other Stories for Dark Times I Left My Heart in San Francisco: Eviction Fiction, Street Spirit, July 2002 Delivered Vacant, Street Spirit In Memory of Lola Mckay Thursday morning announces itself with a blue so electric it nearly crackles. There’s no alternative but to skip the board meeting and return to… Read more →