⌘ Quadruple Rainbow


Photograph by Amanda Curtis on Twitter

⌘ Quadruple Rainbow

By Kai Coggin

A quadruple rainbow,
mother earth gives us a gift,
a sight unseen until today,
a miracle unfolded
in a prism of colors,
a double rainbow,
on a double rainbow
this is the reflection of all
the love she has for us,
this is the reflection of all
the beauty she encompasses,
her dignified chest,
her open-heart womb,
give her room to breathe
and she will write in
quadruple rainbows,
do not believe that she is not magnificent,
do not believe that we are not her tiny
(destructive) wonders
hoping to change
before it’s too late,
before we hurt her anymore,
oh, mother
planet earth,
how you exhale in color,
how you paint the sky with hope
against the bleak background of what
we have done to you.

Copyright © 2016 Kai Coggin.  All Rights Reserved.


Love’s Flow


Love’s Flow

By Iluminado (Yaya) Maldonado

The blade of grass

Breaks out of hiding

Reaching for the sun

The sparkling stream

Never tires of the journey

The stone that will

Never see it’s demise

The snow capped mountain

That forever reaches for heaven

The folly of man that believes he is all

But not that all is he


Copyright © 2016 By Iluminado (Yaya) Maldonado.
All Rights Reserved.





By Jabez W. Churchill

Indefensos nacemos,
sin excepción,
sostenidos a mamar,
a caminar omisos de nada,
a compartir, consumir
solo lo que nos haga falta,
dejar suficiente, lena y agua,
para los que vendran.
?Cuanta gula?
para multilar una isla,
envenenar la mar entera.
?Cuantas especies,
generaciones lisiadas,
hasta la extincion?
cascaras vacias por la orilla sin tocar.
Afortunados los ricos cuyos hijos
no tuvieran hijos, de breve vida
sus cascaras deformadas por las orillas.
?Quien sano les amamantaria,
ensenaria como caminar,
no tocar lo que sus padres envenenaron,
compartir lo poco que nos quedaria,
dejar a otros si otros habria?


Defenseless we are born,
without exception,
held to suckle from the same breasts,
to walk not missing anything,
share, take only what we need,
leave wood and water,
enough for those who have yet to come.
How much greed to maim an island,
poison an entire sea?
How many species,
crippled generations,
to extinction?
Empty shells untouched along the shore.
The wealthy would be fortunate
if their children did not bear,
shells short lived,
deformed along the shore.
Who, healthy, would suckle them,
teach them how to walk,
not touch what their parents poisoned,
share what little there is left,
leave for others,
should others ever come?

Copyright © 2016 Jabez W. Churchill.  All Rights Reserved.

We speak of mighty things


We speak of mighty things

By Jolaoso Pretty Thunder

here on Mount Vision I trace your face

a crescent moon above the Monterey cypress

and long to speak to you

of the phosphorescence in the hidden cove

i want to ask you do you remember?

if not I will tell you this

late, well after midnight the eucalyptus

bent down so deeply she reached into the sea, touched it

this was the season of fury

a time when artists tear their studios apart

cuss God and break their most precious possessions in one night

season of secrets and making pacts

we eat stale bread, drink rum

and walk through the opium after midnight


driftwood smoke

here i will always know you

we are out at Laird’s Landing

and slipped out of our clothes and into the sea

swimming under the full moon We are Illuminated

and became a school of perch then 7000 swallows

i try to retrace the steps and spy a glance of the she-cat

she must have left when you did

Copyright © 2016 Jolaoso Pretty Thunder.  All Rights Reserved.

Oro Verde



Por Elizabeth Cazessús

La resistencia
a los tiempos modernos
era un grito de la naturaleza
escendida debajo de la piel
el rebelde impulso
al usufructo de la tierra.
y aun así, con Hegel
o sin Hegel
no has superado
la relación amo esclavo
los grilletes son el escarpelo
de la historia:
una misma moneda,
un mismo patrón
un mismo trabajo
un mismo oficio
a bajo salario.
Sigues siendo rehén
del hambre
de tus deseos y pasiones
sujeto a las formas del poder
al derecho de pernada
y sus ambiciones.

Copyright © Elizabeth Cazessús 2016 .  All Rights Reserved.

La Llorona’s Sacred Waters

Untitled copy

La Llorona’s Sacred Waters

Odilia Galván Rodríguez
She holds us in the wing of her arm and
all we hear at the edge of the world is
las ranas crying perdiendo se gana
perdiendo se gana perdiendo se…
for our survival  she throws us into the
watery vortex
we are hurled
left to swirl
down to where we all
began and return again
in the ancestor’s
a desperate mother
must return herself
her children
to the blue void
where the waters
are not still
nor rushing but
a soothing place
to rock her
babies back
to the big sleep
their souls to keep
to plant them as seeds
once again
in a watery tomb
the universal womb
from where all life springs
a better place
without suffering
no longer sought in a cruel
world who cares not
for future
merely wants
to use them
as tools
to rule them
for their own
money or profit

We come in tiny little writhing drops
in a sea of blue darkness swimming up
a perilous canal a life journey not to be
stopped then a half of us must penetrate the
luminous calabash of life
to become whole a higher form of life
then swimming semi-conscious
in a briny stew in the curve of
our mother’s bright red womb
until we are done
then we emerge spurting and stopping
causing her much pain at the same time joy and
for that first communion nine months
earlier resulted in an us
a new flower blooming red
in a gush of sacred water flowing out

to greet the world once again


© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2004/2016

Berkeley, Califas.

La Llorona’s Sacred Waters, acrylic paint on stucco, 35′ x 70′, Juana Alicia ©2004. Photo by Ben Blackwell, 2016.


Sentient Circle

Gif Copyright ©

Sentient Circle

By Frank Acosta

Prayers for our relations across the globe; living through some of the most extreme weather and seismic activity the world has witnessed… Mother earth and the atmosphere is under siege. In capitulation to the power that is greed, we have contaminated the soils, poisoned the waters, and fouled the skies, the sacred hoop that gives us life. Angry winds, storms, and floods lash out with no rhyme or reason; as unfathomable destruction and innocent death maim our collective hearts. Every continent has been shaken by violent quakes. Suffocating drought foretells of creation struggles upon a wounded earth. Creator, give us the will to be good stewards of our earth mother, strength to endure calamity, to heal in compassion those who are wounded, and to restore balance of ecology. We are called to walk gently upon the skin of Mother Earth in harmony with the four winds . . .
Copyright © 2016 Frank Acosta.
All Rights Reserved.

The Colors of Death


The Colors of Death

By Sonia Gutiérrez

Ask Fukushima
if she drank
clean water this morning.
If she closes her eyes,
she was too embarrassed
to confess
radioactive water seeped
into groundwater
and seaweed water

all year long.

Ask Fukushima
if those tumors,
oozing blood
were removed
from the gaping mouths
of fish and if their eyes
saw their own fins
Ask Fukushima
if she smelled
the bloated bellies
of salmon
along the warm

ocean shores.

With dry eyes
and chapped lips,
she will answer,
“The hands that protected us
from the power plant’s
demise all year long
did not come this morning
and will not

come tomorrow.”

Ask Fukushima,
What is the color of death?
She will answer,
“Death is the color of Chernobyl . . . Cadarache,
and of our abandonment

in broad daylight.”

Copyright © 2016 Sonia Gutiérrez.
All Rights Reserved.

Querida Pachamama

Photo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Querida Pachamama,

By Iris De Anda

This is it. Road is coming to an end. Let us go out like fire flys. Luminous road, volcanic ash, this walk we are taking together. Remember, mountain ranges and desert sky nestled in my eyes. A sigh of deep relief knowing you will be here long after I leave. A perfect geometric spiral of us laid across your Maiz crops. Seeds of wonder planted by ancestors. Prickly cactus embraces change. We roam together querida from sunrise to sunset. Morning dew full of esperanzas. Hummingbird stillness spreads in afternoon quiet. Shh. Listen to your hum. Om. Namaste. As above so below dear earth mother. Ignite us with movement so that we may save your last rainforest. There is no room for extinction and if there is let it be those who poison your path. Let us undo the clash and find peace in the becoming. Yo soy tu Rainbow Warrior & I will die trying to save you.

De todo Corazon, Tu hija rebelde

Copyright © 2016 Iris De Anda.  All Rights Reserved.

Paso A Paso



By George Wallace

step by step, by seed or by soil, by wind or by wing, by raft or by rail, by steerage, by sail, this passing through, this worst nightmare, this

great trespass, this due north, the next passageway to the next century,

i hear america crossing, crossing itself in new directions, singing with new blood and new directions, new languages beating in its veins, new

vision and new expectations, workboots and poetry yet to be sung, new utilizations,

hush! a footfall in the clearing where the deer are grazing, hush! the big transgression, the violation of ages, we are your fathers and your mothers,

your daughters and your sons, we will get ourselves from here to here, one world, one people,

and you are coming with us, you come from everywhere! to be here, as all who get here, over barbed wire, over walls, past jeeps, quadbikes, rifles,

dogs, past big american guns because guns are of no use against this solemn incursion,

this perpetual sweetness of mixing in, mile by inevitable mile, household by household, blood converging, and voices and tongue, because all roads

are the same road and curves towards itself, because every single mile is the same mile,

equal, equal equal this land which is your land and which is not your land, it is every man’s land, plain, valley, boulevard, hill, paso a paso, step by

step, aspen cactus ironwood madrone, desert ocean raft river, truck by truck, foot by foot

by wind and by wing

by seed and by soil

Copyright © 2016 George Wallace.
All Rights Reserved.