So, apparently, the book has legs… at least at the local level. Through a lot of help from family, friends, and the awesome folks at Sweetgrass Books, there’s been a little buzz created that seems to be growing. We’ve had a couple readings, there’s a podcast set up with Native America Calling, and (hopefully,) a couple more in the offing. We’re also eagerly awaiting the results of a few award nominations this spring/summer.
I’m amazed since it’s only been out a little over a month. To say that there’s been a learning curve involved would be a tremendous understatement. I knew the process would be challenging, (and it is,) but I knew I would have some tremendous support (and I do.) So now, with volume one on the ground and toddling off toward the arms of its waiting readers. I feel a parental mix of pride and regret. Pride, for the message it carries out into the world, and for how well it has been received, and regret over what I could have done better to help it along. Understandably, I also feel a strong pull to sit down and resume work on volume two. Volume one needs a sibling.
Before I get too caught up in all of that though, I thought I’d step back a bit and put something out there that’s a little different, but still speaks to where I come from as a writer, a Cheyenne, and a mistake-making, lesson-learning human being. This is a poem of mine that had been published in an online journal called, Stones Throw Magazine, which had been produced and edited by past Montana Poet Laureate, Tami Haaland. For some reason the journal was taken offline which left my little creation homeless. For want of a home, here it is.
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