When should we mourn?
We think time is always time.
And place is always place.
Bottlebrush trees attract
the nectar lovers and we
capture, capture, capture.
The thesis is still the wind.
from Where the Circles Overlap by Ada Limon
Our workshops circle the state, overlapping as writers are moved from one facility to another. About a year and a half ago, Nolan James Briden was shipped to Snake River Correctional Institution in Ontario from Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem. A founding editor of the PonyXpress, Nolan is a strong writing mentor and leader. His presence in our weekly workshop was sorely missed. He relies on the rhythm of writing with others to keep his pen moving and his reserved charisma encourages the introverts to stand up and read. In October, Nolan and his fellow prisoner at Snake, Geoff Seymour, contacted us through the Chaplain’s office located in the 3000-person medium facility. (The first time I drove up to Snake, the phrase human warehouse came to mind.) Geoff and Nolan said that they could recruit a few guys if we were willing to run a workshop.
At the beginning of last year, we made the three-hour trek to Ontario from Pendleton to build a writing group in the 200-person minimum Snake facility, it’s a small and appreciative group with a tremendous advocate in advisor Toby Baigrie. So, in October with freshly pressed Department of Corrections volunteer badges that included Snake River, we arrived to meet with Geoff and Nolan in medium. We were impressed to start with the six people they had gathered for the workshop, knowing that it can be difficult for people to move out of their comfort zone and try new programs. We quickly learned that this group of eight was only the welcoming committee.
Rather than meet about a workshop, it made sense to just get started and so we read Ada Limon’s poem Where the Circles Overlap and the men responded. Jade Chandler wrote: The thesis is still the wind, feeling peace and the sun shining down, skin feeling the warmth and letting it flow through the body. Listening to the water as it calms me down and put my thoughts at peace.
The Four Directions by Geoff Seymour
The winds of language can carry you in many directions. Sometimes in directions you want and sometimes you don’t. Wind then can either be a metaphor or something exact.
When Shall We Mourn? by Nolan James Briden
Home is where I find kindship with my relatives as I learn — relearn how to look for them. The relations to the earth, sky, universe. The thesis of my life is yet to be told. The thesis of my life is to have an end.
To Chase the Dream by Michael Stepina
It calls us: Chase Me! We chase, we run through things to be — only to find that the perception of glory is a never-ending thirst.
Right away, we knew we had met a special core group of folks. Yes, we knew Nolan and Chris Lewis from OSP and these men are loyal PonyXpress enthusiasts. The addition of Native leaders Michael Stepina and Geoff Seymor along with excellent support from Chaplain Clig encouraged us to sort our schedules and accommodate this additional monthly workshop. When we returned to Snake in November, we stuffed ourselves into a classroom space with little elbow room and tried our first workshop with almost 30 people. We were elated to have so many folks willing to give it a shot, and submissions trickling in over the course of the month. Meanwhile at other prisons, we read Ada Limon and marveled at the way her worked inspired such diverse writing.
The Thesis … by Buddha
Pay attention
because the wind will naturally do what
it does and flow here and there and
back and away again.
We are here. Be present. by Le’Var Howard
This is the golden rule as we evolved in life:
Hold a respect for each other to grow.
The Original Joy by Dustin Smith
No end is the end
Even the dying
Impulses of our bodies,
Carry on to the next;
The electric heat
Of our biochemistry
Echoing forever
In sparks of immortality.
A Thief and His Monster by Jai
Absolute reckless joy
The run, the hunt, the search for
Speeds embrace
With a whhhrrrr-whooshhh
The constant urban rollercoaster cruise
Supernal/Infernal by Richard D Owens
How can one escape,
without,
into fresh cooling waters,
machination of year innerworkings?
Hold a respect for each other to grow.
As Danny and I drove back to Snake Tuesday of this week, we prepared ourselves for the usual attrition. One size does not fit all, especially in prison. Generally, we will see a large first meeting and our second gathering is cut down to about 18-20. We walked down the hall and were joyfully directed to Snake’s Chapel where the Folgers was percolating. You have never seen a room set up and broken down any faster than in prison. Sure enough, men were pulling long tables and chairs from a storage space to create our “circle.” Men arrived dressed with their chambray shirts tucked into their jeans until the tables were filled and we had well over original 30 folks, drawing mostly from the Native, Asian, and Pacific Islander communities. Right away people distinguished themselves: Mike Stepina who opened the workshop with a prayer to the Creator; the giant man called Tiny who is certain to be mischievous; quiet Osmus the horse trainer who read his piece though he was uncomfortable; and a special guest in Susan the 25-year veteran volunteer who leads yoga and meditation at Snake. As I stand in the middle of the group, I imagine the energetic circles carried in the wind and along the river and I feel the link between us all.
Let’s close here. Recently Mike Webb moved to Two Rivers Correctional Institution, during our workshop at Snake he responded to Ada Limon: I walk through the valley looking to the sky feeling the earth movements, looking to the colors and imagining my breathing as I do. Watching the clouds move and wishing, I could feel the air and the wind blowing through the earth, chasing my thoughts through the wind and running to chase my dreams. | TDS
Thanks for publishing these writers.