#simonortiz

• Blind Curse By SImon J. Ortiz • You could drive blind for those two seconds and they would be forever. I think that as a diesel truck passes us eight miles east of Mission. Churning through the storm, heedless of the hill sliding away. There isn’t much use to curse but I do. Words fly away, tumbling invisibly toward the unseen point where the prairie and sky meet. The road is like that in those seconds, nothing but the blind white side of creation.  You’re there somewhere, a tiny struggling cell. You just might be significant but you might not be anything. Forever is a space of split time from which to recover after the mass passes. My curse flies out there somewhere, and then I send my prayer into the wake of the diesel truck headed for Sioux Falls one hundred and eighty miles through the storm. Simon Ortiz, “Blind Curse” from After and Before the Lightning (Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 1994). Copyright © 1994 by Simon Ortiz. • Acoma Pueblo poet Simon Ortiz,  Boulder Colorado,  July 1985 (photo: Allen Ginsberg, courtesy Stanford University Libraries/Allen Ginsberg Estate) #simonortiz  #naropauniversity #kerouacschool #bouldercolorado #AcomaPueblo #allenginsberg #poetrycommunity #nativeamericanrenaissance #fromsandcreek #simonjortiz #indigeneous #nativeamericanoraltraditions (at Boulder, Colorado) https://www.instagram.com/p/CPG-etRhoH4/?utm_medium=tumblr

Acoma Pueblo poet Simon Ortiz,  Boulder Colorado,  July 1985 (photo: Allen Ginsberg, courtesy Stanford University Libraries/Allen Ginsberg Estate) #simonortiz  #naropauniversity #kerouacschool #bouldercolorado #AcomaPueblo #allenginsberg #poetrycommunity #nativeamericanrenaissance #fromsandcreek #simonjortiz #indigeneous #nativeamericanoraltraditions (at Boulder, Colorado)

• Blind Curse By SImon J. Ortiz • You could drive blind for those two seconds and they would be forever. I think that as a diesel truck passes us eight miles east of Mission. Churning through the storm, heedless of the hill sliding away. There isn’t much use to curse but I do. Words fly away, tumbling invisibly toward the unseen point where the prairie and sky meet. The road is like that in those seconds, nothing but the blind white side of creation.                    You’re there somewhere, a tiny struggling cell. You just might be significant but you might not be anything. Forever is a space of split time from which to recover after the mass passes. My curse flies out there somewhere, and then I send my prayer into the wake of the diesel truck headed for Sioux Falls one hundred and eighty miles through the storm. Simon Ortiz, “Blind Curse” from After and Before the Lightning (Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 1994). Copyright © 1994 by Simon Ortiz. • Acoma Pueblo poet Simon Ortiz,  Boulder Colorado,  July 1985 (photo: Allen Ginsberg, courtesy Stanford University Libraries/Allen Ginsberg Estate) #simonortiz  #naropauniversity #kerouacschool #bouldercolorado #AcomaPueblo #allenginsberg #poetrycommunity #nativeamericanrenaissance #fromsandcreek #simonjortiz #indigeneous #nativeamericanoraltraditions 98w (at Boulder, Colorado) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBjT9evBd3C/?igshid=1qvfzqcp0u4oz

Hick Poetics blurbs - Jim Harrison, Simon J. Ortiz, Cole Swensen!