table center of my tiny world made bearable by ancient heater blowing hot dust we inhabit this camper as if we could make it our home. in May I reach seventy trying not to resent the broken promises of America of my hopes and dreams or in truth is my name old woman failure do i stand like a broken flag blowing in this cold western wind wondering if my prayers are too stupid if that guy who spits anger at my spiritual poems is right belief an opium to make me forget the freezing phantoms that haunt my nights questions howled by the coyotes in the fields outside this place joining with the pop of guns November hunters take their fill and kill to cull the herds of deer and elk can balance be achieved by killing? i know no words of mine have any effect on the immutable divine prayers i make only to change my countenance to spin myself into gold this poem discomforts me i want to leave town now run from her words she is explaining why no one has paid for my poems why i was born here where we stand on the bones of those we kill and kill where men and women and their children in black skin have never escaped the slave ships in which we crossed them those who cross our borders for refuge of any sort find guns pointed and the soldier's boot no matter how long they clean toilets and tend our lost children this land is not your land or my land though the indigenous ancestors sing in my blood it is a stolen territory not that it needs to be returned the return is to a knowing that nothing is ours, every drop of love produces joy, manufactures abundance comes from nothing we have done. truth yells here our collective lie-thoughts believe in the greed made pretty by manipulating charity i show you my dinner plate instead of my deepest fear and love cyberspace as unreal as our emptiness. will we continue to allow ourselves to be stolen crying alone at the screen? we mean to earn enough next year to make us happy an idea will come a hand will reach us through the internet of our isolation I lay down this LIE sleep dreaming, answers unimpeded by the call of screen and mean I have direct connection. my heart has wisdom written. i'm reading.