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Wednesday Poetry: Bury my car at wounded knee

May 12, 2010
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Text and background after the jump.

A comet flew through my soul

Not far from Black Hills Gold


From a

Snaking River

Did yellow-hair die?




How the


Did Indian names

Wind up on


Four Sleeping


View a corn palace circus

From a cold land

As spirits roam alone

Bury my car at wounded knee

From Adrienne at Native Appropriations:

Many years ago, back when I was a wee sophomore in college, my roommate Charlotte stumbled upon this poem in the streets of San Francisco. I’ve had it on my computer ever since, and I love it.

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