Epitaph for the Last Poet … by Sandy McKinney

I am the poet. I will be heard.
I speak for the mute, the fallen bird
bereft of flute and flutter,
for the damned
the dim, the daft, the desperate
the ewe new-lambed in winter
the mutter of worms, the spider’s fantasy
Forget my name, but by God remember the leaf
floating windless without wings
and the cold sod
that receives it, the seed
ungerminated, the need
for light on growing things.

.

an indigenous journal

December 4, 2007

in·dig·e·nous
1 Originating and living or occurring naturally in an area or environment.
See native.
2 Intrinsic; innate.

“This is our story.” — Solares Hill, in a review by Rosalind Brackenbury

The secret of salt: an indigenous journal is a bi-annual collection of fiction, poetry, essays, interviews & images inspired by our unique environment.

The journal explores a new theme with each issue and encourages thoughtful artistic expression. We celebrate our diverse island community … artists, writers, healers … fishermen, sailors, dreamers … and are grateful for the opportunity to live in a place where we can really be ourselves.

Emerging artists, as well as those long established, are included in our pages. It is our vision for the journal to be a container for our stories … a record over time and a beautiful gift to share with those who are just passing through.