First task as a Graduate grrrl

Your girl made her first flyer as an MFA grad grrrl. Be sure to follow @mills_mfa_lit (Instagram and Facebook page) to follow some of the cool stuff our program will be doing/hosting poetry/prose/literature wise. XOXO- Amber #bayarea#MFA#grad#grrrl

For our first Contemporary Writers Series for the fall, Tommy Pico will sharing some of his amazing writing with us September 11th , 2018 in the Mills Hall living room at 5:30. Refreshments and yummy snacks will be provided as well. Stop by to hear some fresh, witty poetry from the lens of this talented Native poet. #Millscollege#MFA#creativewritingprogram#poetry#prose#MA#literature#contemporarywritersseries#millshall#livingroom

Tommy Pico’s critically acclaimed books of poetry include IRL and Nature Poem. Originally from the Viejas Indian reservation of the Kumeyaay nation, he now lives in Brooklyn where he co-curates the reading series Poets With Attitude (PWA) with Morgan Parker, co-hosts the podcast Food 4 Thot, and is a contributing editor at Literary Hub. Pico’s many honors include a Whiting Award and fellowships with Lambda Literary, Queer/Arts/Mentors, and New York Foundation for the Arts.

♥Adolescents- Amoeba♥

Californian Change

Life has been a whirlwind of hopes, fingers crossed and a transporting of many boxes up and down three flights of stairs. I recently left my job in Phoenix, Arizona to pursue my Master of fine Arts in creative writing with an emphasis in Poetry at Mills College in Oakland, California. It may be one state away but the change is vast and feel as though I am walking to the unknown.

Last week, my boyfriend and I packed my tiny Subaru Impreza with as much as I could fit and made our journey north to the Bay area. The first day we drove through the Sonoran desert and said bye to the precious saguaro I’ve been surrounded by for the past ten years in the valley. We made our way though the Californian Sonoran desert then stopped for dinner in the pacific coastal town of Ventura, California.

We had made it just in time for the sunset, for a moment it seemed as though the ocean tide was bringing liquid Amber to the shore. I’ve always wanted to be surrounded by water and the sound of it, it felt like good energy. Another reason I’m glad we stopped here is because I heard one of the Islands off the Santa Barbara channel is where Changing woman once lived. This past spring I took a Dinè (Navajo) Cultural class though the Phoenix Indian Center. When I heard this, for some reason it made sense to me and I wanted to be in the presence or near where this island may have been. I looked out to the ocean and breathed. Then we made our way further North.

Also, I had some of the best mole that night in a deserted downtown Ventura. We were also the only folks in the restaurant that night. It was a bit odd but nice to have the restaurant to ourselves for one our last dinners together.

When we made it to Oakland, that is when it finally hit me, I will be staying here, I will be studying here. I will be writing here?!?! Then every part of me felt like I wanted to cling to every safe part of what I had built in Phoenix. Then I started asking myself, would I grow in all the safeness? Would I grow as a writer in my codling? Would I grow in my ego? Then I knew why I came to Oakland, to challenge myself, to push myself as a writer and to read until words started seeping out of my ears. Then I remembered and got off of the MacArthur Boulevard exit and checked in as a new graduate student.

♥PJ Harvey- Send his love to me♥

AZ central poetry spot and Cloudthroat

I have a couple poems that have been published in the past couple weeks. One is ‘Raspberries do not blush in the sky,’ a poem written for Anna Mae Aquash and missing murdered Indigenous women. This poem is located on the AZcentral.com Poetry Spot page. 

Another two poems, ‘Rose Quartz,” and “Natives with Neural Activity,’ is located in the new issue of Cloudthroat online journal which an online publication aimed to publish Indigenous creativity and revolt. 

Both projects are founded and led by some talented poets pushing for narratives that may have been unheard or oppressed, I am grateful to be included in their poetry projects and publications ♥

Ahéhee’!

Amber M.

Redskirt

Daughters of the Glittering World*revised

IMG_4060

Daughters of the Glittering World

***

Rivers of ignorance disjoint

In the Yellow World

Where a river of pride divided

Altsé hastiin, First Man

 and Altsé asdzáá, First Woman

      A disheartening division      

     

In this Glittering World

Shiny sons we were meant to bear

Our men tell us to learn

“But don’t get too smart”

Be a leader

“But you can’t lead your people”

 

Sometimes, I feel the water

at my feet

Is the river coming back?

Or is this all in my mind?

 

Is education

forming these rivers

between my unborn

Kinłichii’nii babies

and their father?

Or is it ignorance?

 

These colonized times

have made the

violent waters run rapid

Swept away

our culture and language

 

Leaving heirloom

lands naked

then overruled

by knotted weeds

 

However, the daughters

of the glittering world

Hold the tools

To weed out our sorrows

Sow the seeds of the forgotten ones

And Germinate love, once lost

 

We are the daughters of the glittery world

Rest assured we may sulk and sigh for our

Loved ones

Our Resilient Roots

Are strong enough for any Sadistic Storm

Or Raging River

                                                                           So bring the water

 

For we are the daughters of the glittering world

                                                                                              And we know who we live for

***

♥You look so good in love- George Strait♥

Two Dinè Men At 8PM 

Tonight, I descend my voice

Tonight, I bend my thoughts 

Tonight, my heart was so heavy

It should’ve took 

two tanks of gas 

to get home

 

Instead, I was numb 

as the tar 

on the road

and dull as the red

unblinking tail lights 

 

All headed south 

In lines 

And in curves 

 

I,

Trying to dismantle

a young memory

where comfort 

was never an option

 

I,

continue to drive 

through mountains 

and desert land 

 

With my tired mother

sleeping in the

passenger seat

toward a night sky 

that holds rain 

and thunder 

 

Yet,

I felt no thunder

and I saw no rain

to wash away 

guilt that renders

sullen reaction 

to drunken apologies

and protective pleas to stay

 

A brother and father

Two Dinè men

At 8pm

 

One to flee from 

and one to run to

Tonight, I leave

So, I do not 

say goodbye

 

♥Mazzy Star- Common Burn♥