A Few More Sentences – 20
Ode’imini-giizis (Strawberry Moon) Edition
Boozhoo, indinawemaaganidog! Aaniin! That is to say hello, all of my relatives! Welcome to another edition of An Irritable Métis. In this case, I am happy to present the TWENTIETH EDITION! of the monthly sentences.
For those of you new here this monthly edition, where I post the daily, single sentences that I’ve accumulated for the month-just-ended, is based on the practice that ultimately led to my first book, One-Sentence Journal, back in 2018.
It’s a simple practice and fulfilling … and also maybe not so simple as it may seem. Regardless, the practice is excellent training for paying attention to the small moments of my life, and I enjoy sharing those moments here. As always, I deeply appreciate your time and attention. If you feel compelled to offer up a few of your own observations in the comments, I would love to see them.
Do you like these sentences and anything else you see here? Consider becoming a paid subscriber. It really does make a huge difference, every single one.
Preorders for Becoming Little Shell are going strong. I’d love you to consider that too, if you are of a mind to! You may do so HERE. I’m going to be increasing the blather about its imminent release over the coming weeks, complete with reviews and blurbs and other exciting things. It’s getting closer and closer and closer!
In fact, BLS was just named a “Most Anticipated Read of the Summer!” by The Millions. That’s pretty cool!
Finally, tomorrow morning I’m blasting out of my driveway headed all the way to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where I’ve been invited to hang out with students at IAIA1 for a couple days. On my way back I’m stopping at Ring Lake Ranch in Dubois, Wyoming, for a few days to facilitate a workshop called “Poetry as Spiritual Practice,” one of my old favorites that I haven’t done in a while. The overlap of poet laureate and imminent book is exhilarating and relentless and I’d be lying if I said I’m not reveling in it.2 Now, though, on to the sentences!
2024_0601: As my country road home grows less and less country with every shovelful of dirt overturned in service to some new development, the road carnage of out-of-their-minds gophers seems almost catastrophic this time of year.
2024_0602: The deep, nearly angry satisfaction of an odious task completed, possibly for the last time.
2024_0603: Traversing one third of Montana through what feels like hurricane conditions on the way to a hit and run visit to the Magic City.
2024_0604: The old saw some teachers use about “learning from their students” is proved true in a library full of sullen and unrepentant representatives of such slouching through a presentation just to acquire their renewal credits.
2024_0605: A medium-sized group of women gather and overly celebrate the middling contributions of a few men while that demographic overwhelmingly can’t be bothered to join in the hard work and institutional challenges that these very women are confronted with.
2024_0606: A gigantic Trump flag slouches from a tall pole in the yard of the house on the corner in Frenchtown where I attended kindergarten more than half-a-century ago and it feels like ultimate betrayal.
2024_0607: I want to live tucked up under the shadows cast by the Backbone of the World.
2024_0608: The amateur auctioneer’s energy flags early.
2024_0609: The restaurant believed closed is actually open and it’s time to celebrate with their homemade pie.
2024_0610: An overtly privileged white lady who has unexpectedly crashed dinner has the cluelessness to defend our current genocidal maniac in charge of this murderous country as practicing “genocide light” right in the faces of two Indigenous people who had just spent 90 minutes discussing the generational trauma of our colonized people and my only response is to up and leave, or else.
2024_0611: An hour outside in a sacred place with a small group of teenagers whose primary interest seems to be getting back indoors.
2024_0612: What’s mostly left of the family gathers, joyously.
2024_0613: Another commonality shared by adults and teens alike: the inflated sense of stealth when texting with their phone “hidden” below the level of a tabletop.
2024_0614: The Thunderbirds of Yellowstone once again arrive just in time to put an exclamation point to my most recent borderline incoherent bloviation.
2024_0615: Good company in the presence of larches and cedars and cold flowing water.
2024_0616: “On the Sabbath?!” indignation never gets old.
2024_0617: The beautiful smiles of excellent friends bookending afternoon-into-evening commitments bolster my toleration for relentless traffic.
2024_0618: If I’d known my feet would be documented walking through sage I’d have worn cooler shoes.
2024_0619: Given their horrific politics, I’m pretty sure Texas still doesn’t get it….
2024_0620: So much mail paperwork just to mail some paperwork.
2024_0621: Clear sky bright with moonlight but our cliff high ancestors refuse to allow Nookomis to show her face.
2024_0622: If sleeping in the clothes they paddled in instead of their jammies was good enough for the voyageurs, it’s good enough for me.
2024_0623: The wonder of a magnificent dragonfly and all of their brittle beauty absolutely chowing down on a salmon fly while bellied up to the table that is the back of a friend’s sun kissed hand.
2024_0624: Power boats on the river move giant wakes not just on the water but across my sense of peace in the alleged wilderness.
2024_0625: Raising a paddle in recognition of Jim Harrison for saying, “You can’t be unhappy in the middle of a big, beautiful river.”
2024_0626: A chilly few final hours on the Main Salmon is no reason for me to want to leave it all behind so soon.
2024_0627: An early and heavy sudden rain doesn’t dampen the enthusiasm of the western wood pewee to whistle in the morning.
2024_0628: Anyone who questions the notion that “water is life” has never felt a wild river moving in their body days after physically leaving it behind.
2024_0629: A week off my feet followed by three miles on the trail feels like months of training was washed right out of me by the cold waters of the Salmon.
2024_0630: The world picks and pulls to disconnect me from existential connections renewed over the final days of this month, and I fight back with stillness.
Miigwech for reading, my friends, and for your excellent and continued support. It’s about to get dangerously hot here in Montana; let’s take care of each other no matter where we are!
Institute of American Indian Arts.
Well, mostly. Almost a full week at home has reminded me that that isn’t so bad either sometimes.
Gorgeous as always. The river imagery. Moon. Mountains. Teens in a sacred place. Cellphones under the table. All the details! And "What’s mostly left of the family gathers, joyously."
Your sentences project has inspired my own! I started near the end of June, and am almost one week in. Opening to the mystery of the adventure. So satisfying. Thank you for inspiring.
I have enjoyed your tenure as poet laureate. I was worried it would soften your political edge(s), but you have remained true and sincere, and thanks for that. Also, as a teacher myself, this--"The old saw some teachers use about “learning from their students” is proved true in a library full of sullen and unrepentant representatives of such slouching through a presentation just to acquire their renewal credits"--made me laugh. Truth, again.