Esther Belin
My poet is called Esther Belin. Esther Belin was born July 2, 1968 in Gallup, New Mexico. She grew up in Los Angeles California and in her childhood experience she grew up in the urbanized areas. Esther Belin is the daughter of Eddie and Susan and they were moved by the U.S. Federal Indian Relocated Program. Her dad is from Birdsprings and her mother is from Torren.
She is a Native American. In her poems she add something that happened in her childhood. Esther Belin graduate in the Institute of American Indian Arts and the University of California at Berkeley. Esther Belin is a multimedia artist and is a poet. She is still alive, and now lives in Durango, Colorado with her husband and children. Esther Belin won the American Book Award from Columbus Foundation in 1999 because of the book called "Belly of My Beauty." Some poems from Esther Belin is "Blues-sing on the Brown Vibe", "Night Travel", "When Roots are Exposed," and "Bringing Hannah Home", and so on.
This is one of Esther Belin poems.
She is a Native American. In her poems she add something that happened in her childhood. Esther Belin graduate in the Institute of American Indian Arts and the University of California at Berkeley. Esther Belin is a multimedia artist and is a poet. She is still alive, and now lives in Durango, Colorado with her husband and children. Esther Belin won the American Book Award from Columbus Foundation in 1999 because of the book called "Belly of My Beauty." Some poems from Esther Belin is "Blues-sing on the Brown Vibe", "Night Travel", "When Roots are Exposed," and "Bringing Hannah Home", and so on.
This is one of Esther Belin poems.
Night Travel
I like to travel to L.A. by myself My trips to the crowded smoggy polluted by brown indigenous and immigrant haze are healing. I travel from one pollution to another. Being urban I return to where I came from My mother survives in L.A. Now for over forty years. I drive to L.A. in the darkness of the day on the road before CHP one with the dark driving my black truck invisible on my journey home. The dark roads take me back to my childhood riding in the camper of daddy’s truck headed home. My brother, sister and I would be put to sleep in the camper and sometime in the darkness of the day daddy would clime into the cab with mom carrying a thermos full of coffee and some Pendleton blankets And they would pray before daddy started the truck for journey mercies. Often I’d rise from my lullaby sleep and stare into the darkness of the road the long darkness empty of cars Glowy from daddy’s headlights and lonesome from Hank Williams’ deep and twangy voice singing of cold nights and cheatin’ hearts. About an hour from Flagstaff the sun would greet us and the harsh light would break the darkness and we’d be hungry from travel and for being almost home. I know the darkness of the roadsendless into the glowy path before melit by the moon high above and the heat rising from my truck’s engine.The humming from tires whisper mile after mileendless alongside roadside of fields shadowy from glow. I know the darkness of the roadsIt swims through my veinsdark like my skinand silenced like a battered wife.I know the darkness of the roadsIt floods my liverpollutes my breathyet I still witness the white dawning. |
“Blues-sing on the Brown Vibe”
And Coyote struts down East 14th
feeling good
looking good
feeling the brown
melting into the brown that loiters
rapping with the brown in front of the Native American Health Center
talking that talk
of relocation from tribal nation
of recent immigration to the place some call the United States
home to many dislocated funky brown
ironic immigration
more accurate tribal nation to tribal nation
and Coyote sprinkles corn pollen in the four directions
to thank the tribal people
indigenous to what some call the state of California
the city of Oakland
for allowing use of their land.
II.
And Coyote travels by Greyhound from Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA thru Dinétah
to Oakland, California, USA
laughing
Interstate 40 is cluttered with RVs from as far away as Maine
traveling and traveling
to perpetuate the myth
Coyote kicks back for most of the ride
amused by the constant herd of tourists
amazed by the mythic Indian they create
at a pit stop in Winslow
Coyote trades a worn beaded cigarette lighter for roasted corn
from a middle-aged Navajo woman squatting
in front of a store
and Coyote squats alongside the woman
talking that talk
of bordertown blues
of reservation discrimination
blues-ing on the brown vibe
a bilagáana snaps a photo
the Navajo woman stands
holding out her hand
requesting some of her soul back
instead
she replaces her soul with a worn picture of George Washington on a dollar bill
and Coyote starts on another ear of corn
climbing onto the Greyhound
the woman
still squatting
waiting
tired of learning not to want
waits there for the return of all her pieces.
III.
And Coyote wanders
right into a Ponca sitting at the Fruitvale Bart station
next to the Ponca is a Seminole
Coyote struts up to the two
“Where ya’all from?”
the Ponca replies
“Oooklahooma”
pause
the Seminole silent watches a rush of people climb in and out of the train
headed for Fremont
the Seminole stretches his arms up and back stiff from the wooden benches
pause
he pushes his lips out toward the Ponca slowly gesturing that he too is from Oklahoma
Coyote wanders
“where ’bouts?”
the Ponca replies
“Ponnca City”
pause
the Seminole replies
“Seminoole”
Coyote gestures to the Ponca
“You Ponca?”
the Ponca nods his head in affirmation
Coyote nods his head in content
to the Seminole
Coyote asks
“You Seminole?”
pause
the Seminole now watching some kids eating frozen fruit bars
nods his head
and Coyote shares his smokes with the two
and ten minutes later
they travel together on the Richmond train
headed for Wednesday night dinner at the Intertribal Friendship House.
IV.
And Coyote blues-ing on the urban brown funk vibe
wanders
in and out of existence
tasting the brown
rusty at times
worn bitter from relocation.
And Coyote struts down East 14th
feeling good
looking good
feeling the brown
melting into the brown that loiters
rapping with the brown in front of the Native American Health Center
talking that talk
of relocation from tribal nation
of recent immigration to the place some call the United States
home to many dislocated funky brown
ironic immigration
more accurate tribal nation to tribal nation
and Coyote sprinkles corn pollen in the four directions
to thank the tribal people
indigenous to what some call the state of California
the city of Oakland
for allowing use of their land.
II.
And Coyote travels by Greyhound from Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA thru Dinétah
to Oakland, California, USA
laughing
Interstate 40 is cluttered with RVs from as far away as Maine
traveling and traveling
to perpetuate the myth
Coyote kicks back for most of the ride
amused by the constant herd of tourists
amazed by the mythic Indian they create
at a pit stop in Winslow
Coyote trades a worn beaded cigarette lighter for roasted corn
from a middle-aged Navajo woman squatting
in front of a store
and Coyote squats alongside the woman
talking that talk
of bordertown blues
of reservation discrimination
blues-ing on the brown vibe
a bilagáana snaps a photo
the Navajo woman stands
holding out her hand
requesting some of her soul back
instead
she replaces her soul with a worn picture of George Washington on a dollar bill
and Coyote starts on another ear of corn
climbing onto the Greyhound
the woman
still squatting
waiting
tired of learning not to want
waits there for the return of all her pieces.
III.
And Coyote wanders
right into a Ponca sitting at the Fruitvale Bart station
next to the Ponca is a Seminole
Coyote struts up to the two
“Where ya’all from?”
the Ponca replies
“Oooklahooma”
pause
the Seminole silent watches a rush of people climb in and out of the train
headed for Fremont
the Seminole stretches his arms up and back stiff from the wooden benches
pause
he pushes his lips out toward the Ponca slowly gesturing that he too is from Oklahoma
Coyote wanders
“where ’bouts?”
the Ponca replies
“Ponnca City”
pause
the Seminole replies
“Seminoole”
Coyote gestures to the Ponca
“You Ponca?”
the Ponca nods his head in affirmation
Coyote nods his head in content
to the Seminole
Coyote asks
“You Seminole?”
pause
the Seminole now watching some kids eating frozen fruit bars
nods his head
and Coyote shares his smokes with the two
and ten minutes later
they travel together on the Richmond train
headed for Wednesday night dinner at the Intertribal Friendship House.
IV.
And Coyote blues-ing on the urban brown funk vibe
wanders
in and out of existence
tasting the brown
rusty at times
worn bitter from relocation.
Citations
Blueridgejournal.com,. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Democracy Now!,. On Columbus Day, Indigenous Urge Honoring Native Culture, Teaching Americas' Genocide 1 Of 2. 2012. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Flagstaffcentral.com,. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Fortlewis.edu,. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Jacobs, Connie. From California To The Four Corners: An Urban. 2nd ed. 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Poetryfoundation.org,. 'Blues-Ing On The Brown Vibe By Esther Belin : The Poetry Foundation'. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Timenm.com,. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Blueridgejournal.com,. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Democracy Now!,. On Columbus Day, Indigenous Urge Honoring Native Culture, Teaching Americas' Genocide 1 Of 2. 2012. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Flagstaffcentral.com,. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Fortlewis.edu,. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Jacobs, Connie. From California To The Four Corners: An Urban. 2nd ed. 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Poetryfoundation.org,. 'Blues-Ing On The Brown Vibe By Esther Belin : The Poetry Foundation'. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.
Timenm.com,. N.p., 2015. Web. 23 Apr. 2015.