republicansareahategroup: tilthat: TIL that in 1916 there was a proposed Amendment to the US...

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republicansareahategroup:

tilthat:

TIL that in 1916 there was a proposed Amendment to the US Constitution that would put all acts of war to a national vote, and anyone voting yes would have to register as a volunteer for service in the United States Army.

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bring this back and suddenly capitalists don’t wanna go to war no more
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farm vignette no. zillion and two

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Yesterday was a slaughter day, which means a long hard day of work. Today we’re cleaning up and catching up and such.

My sister ran out the door as soon as she’d had enough coffee and toast, to do chores. I’d had a moment to ask her what I had to do, and one of the things was hang up the laundry, all of yesterday’s gross slaughter clothes who got a load to themselves. 

So I finished my coffee, and set out up the hill to the laundry line. A little farther along the hill is where the pigs are pastured, and my sister was there with one of the apprentices, a young woman who had a hard time with the killing yesterday. (She persevered, and made it through the whole day, but was in tears several times; she’d expected to have trouble, and she did.) The chore truck is currently an elderly Jeep Wrangler, red, and in the green of the hill, it made a pretty picture.

My sister had just run, galumphing in the high grass in rubber boots, over to the hydrant to turn the hose on, and then had run back across the hillside, and now the two women stood in contemplation as the stock tank of water filled. 

I hung the clothes, listening to the birdsong and the pigs squealing, and thought about the coming day, and then thought about a lovely picture it all made, and how thoughtful the two women looked, and what they must be discussing.

In a moment, the tank must be nearly full, and my sister came running across the hillside again, still awkward, just like she used to run when she was a little kid. As she ran she yelled something, and I assumed she was calling back to the apprentice but then I realized she’d been shouting to me. 

“What?”

“He fucked a tree!” she yelled. I realized they must be by the boar’s pasture.

“WHAT?”

“He fucked a tree and now he’s eating his come off the ground,” she yelled as she ran by.

Boars are disgusting. “Ew,” I said. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”

“You’re welcome,” my sister said, running back across the idyllic green hill to the picturesque red jeep.
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uwmspeccoll: SPOTLIGHT: Former Kansas Poet Laureate Denise Low...

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uwmspeccoll:

SPOTLIGHT: Former Kansas Poet Laureate Denise Low (Lenape/Cherokee)

Denise Low, Kansas Poet Laureate from 2007-2009, offered a presentation in Special Collections today on “Indigenous Re-Identification: Cross-Genre Autobiographies,” discussing self identity in the storytelling found in ledger art, the work of Leslie Marmon Silko, Thomas Weso’s Good Seeds: A Menominee Food Memoir, and her own Turtle’s Beating Heart: A Lenape Story of Survival. 

Low is an award-winning author of 30 books of prose and poetry. To spotlight her presence here, we present an artist’s book of her poems, Quilting, illustrated and printed in hand-set in Caslon Bold in 1984 by Linda Samson-Talleur in an edition of 183 signed copies at the Holiseventh Press in Lawrence, Kansas. The paper was handmade by Jennie Frederick of Kansas City Paperworks.

Of her work in this set of folded, handmade-paper broadsides, Denise Low writes:

These quilting poems, though mostly written during the summer of 1982, have taken all my life to write… . Quiltmaking is an apt metaphor for making art. The poetry I like best, in fact, is a synthesis of everyday objects and events, chosen from a rag-bag stockpile and transformed by the human touch… . I myself do not quilt, or even sew. Nonetheless, I feel included in the vast circle of women who have had families and have tried to make objects of utility and beauty from fabric and yarn… . Such tacit nurturance is an inheritance threaded through the generations.

View other Native American Women Writers we have highlighted.
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