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The Heart of Everything That Is


Poetry, Red Bird Editor Series
Photographs by author
44 pages 
6" x 6" single signature with hand sewn binding
Published May 2014

At the Top

The steep angle of the slab
sends my stomach in somersaults.
The long distance to the ground
overcomes logic and I briefly forget
this tether at my waist marries me
to this ledge so that I may take in these spires 
surrounding me.

Raven’s eye view over the vast expanse of 
rocks pushed upward: 
sharp stones punctuating the heart of everything that is.

Richard Walker

Richard Walker is a journalist of Mexican/Yaqui ancestry living in Kitsap County, Washington. He is editor of the North Kitsap Herald in Poulsbo and is a regular correspondent for Indian Country Today Media Network. 

He is the author of the book, Roche Harbor, and the text for a set of 15 historic Roche Harbor images published as postcards (Arcadia Publishing, 2009). He is the author of the poetry chapbook, The Journey Home (Red Bird Chapbooks, 2012); and is co-author of the Indian Country Stylebook / For Editors, Reporters and Writers (Kindle, 2014). 

Much of his poetry is about the struggles of people of multicultural background to hold onto their indigenous identity and traditional lifeways. In addition to his chapbook The Journey Home, his poetry has been published in Yellow Medicine Review: A Journal of Indigenous Literature, Art, and Thought (Southwest Minnesota State University) summer 2011 and fall 2013; and on

He and his wife, Molly, a citizen of the Samish Nation, enjoy cultural events, outdoor activities and exploring the great Pacific Northwest.

From The Journey Home

The journey home

It is not their fault, the elder says,
that these people have lighter hair
and lighter skin.

It is not their fault that their great-
grandmothers married outside their culture,
perhaps out of love, perhaps out of concern
for their security and the security of the
next generation to come,

perhaps a little of both.

It is not their fault that their great-grandmothers
and great-grandfathers chose not to go to
reservations during the time of change,

because they wanted to stay on the land that
had known their ancestors and their lifeways
since time immemorial.

Like people who have been on a long journey
abroad, these people have changed,

but now, these children of the diaspora have returned,

seeking to learn and continue the lifeways
of their great-grandmothers
and great-great-grandfathers.

These relatives of mine are like young ones
who, having had a taste of something good,
now come to the table seeking to become full
in their culture

so they are empowered to live and carry on
the lifeways that sustained their ancestors
since the beginning of time.

I know some people call them the white Tribe,
says this elder of full blood,
but I am proud of them.

These tears I cry are tears of happiness,
she says.

These are my relatives
and my relatives have come home.


What others are saying...

About The Journey Home:

“These poems are loving portraits of a strong people. Not only powerful, but they speak the beauty of truth." - Anita Endrezze, poet and artist (Throwing Fire at the Sun, Water at the Moon, University of Arizona Press).

"I haven't used literature to teach before, but, after reading Mexican/Yaqui poet Richard Walker's work, I'm seriously considering it. In addition to containing many beautiful poems, Walker's chapbook, 'The Journey Home,' seems like it is uniquely designed to help non-Indian students understand aspects of indigenous culture that some find difficult." -- Ann Tweedy, assistant professor at Hamline University School of Law and poet.

"Tying together the strands of family, history, and identity, it reaches back across generations and geographic boundaries to illuminate not only the author's struggle to understand himself but also his family's journey and place in the world ... 'The Journey Home' [is] an enjoyable collection." 
- Robert Hybben, graduate teaching assistant at Hamline University and independent book reviewer 

"Walker does a beautiful job of letting people of the past speak to the present ... His desire to make readers see old traditions as living ones that still have place and purpose is unmistakable. That, for me, is why these poems are successful." - Sarah Clay, independent book reviewer

More about the author...


Meg Tuite

Meg Tuite is the author of two short story collections, Bound By Blue (2013) Sententia Books and Domestic Apparition (2011) San Francisco Bay Press, three chapbooks and a poetic prose/poetry chap w/ David Tomaloff coming out in 2015. She won the Twin Antlers Collaborative Poetry award from Artistically Declined Press for her poetry collection, Bare Bulbs Swinging (2014) written with Heather Fowler and Michelle Reale. She teaches at the Santa Fe Community College, is fiction editor for Santa Fe Literary Review, a featured column at Connotation Press and a column at JMWW. She lives in Santa Fe with her husband and menagerie of pets. Her blog:

Her Skin is a Costume

More about the author...


Arlene Naganawa

Arlene Naganawa’s poetry has appeared in numerous magazines, including Crab Orchard Review, Pontoon/Floating Bridge Review, Calyx, Caketrain, The Seattle Review, Sow’s Ear Poetry Review and others. She is a featured poet on Seattle’s Poetry on Buses and was the recipient of two Seattle Arts Commission Literary Artist Awards.  She teaches humanities and creative writing in the Seattle area.

From The Scarecrow Bride

Bradner Garden, Winter
Cross of sticks, bit of thread. Someone’s
stitched a life into this scarecrow’s lacy chest.
Late March wind fills a heart, anima rises
unseen beneath the faded dress.
Visitor in the garden, I see sparrows in her shadow,
then imagine: a girl, the woman she might become,
lift of the moon, shining eyes, pulse winding up.

What others are saying...

The Far Field features Arlene's poem "Michael Jackson Dreams the Elephant Man

More about the author...

Twitter @hurricanefranky

Howie Good

Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of the forthcoming poetry collection Dark Specks in a Blue Sky from Another New Calligraphy. He is the recipient of the 2015 Press Americana Prize for Poetry for his collection Dangerous Acts Starring Unstable Elements.


From Living is the Spin Cycle (2012)

Living is the Spin Cycle

It isn’t actually a wrecked stock car. I just call it
that, the top two floors occupied, and the lower
48 on fire. The mirror on the wall has mastered
the technique of waiting graciously for someone
to appear. Meanwhile, I listen to the insect-like
buzz of my own blood in embarrassed silence.
The only instruction is FOLLOW ALL
INSTRUCTIONS. There are naked women
everywhere. I don't think I'll be doing laundry.

Danger Falling Debris (2013)

Howie Good uses poetry to create a playful, yet sinister romp through our  postmodern times. His is a world where God hides in the attic, neighbors step out  dressed in their personal stories, and a hand washes ashore. These seemingly  random associations take the familiar and render it strange as butterflies, children,  angles, and rain fall like debris.

Echo's Bones (2013)

What happens when a story stops at one point, rather than concludes? If you close  your eyes, can you calculate how far a scream will carry, given the given the  currents of the wind? How do you survive a world where violence is culturally  dictated entertainment? Mallarme, Rimbaud, Munch, Breton, Beckett, Burroughs,  and Thoreau haunt the enigmatic manifesto of Echo’s Bones.

A Theory of Vision Broadside (2014)

Flammable Until Dry Pamphlet/mini chapbook comprised of prose poems

More about the author...


Broadsides Sizes

April 2013 Broadside
Poem by Matt Mauch
Drawing by Karen O'Bryan
Printed on archival matte paper

Broadside Contributors: 

Matt Mauch is the author of If You’re Lucky Is a Theory of Mine (Trio House Press), Prayer Book (Lowbrow Press), and the chapbook The Brilliance of the Sparrow (Mondo Bummer). He hosts the annual Great Twin Cities Poetry Read, and also the Maeve’s Sessions readings, and edits the anthology Poetry City, USA, an annual collection of poetry and prose on poetry. A Minnesota State Arts Board Artist Initiative Grant recipient, Mauch teaches in the AFA program at Normandale Community College, and lives in Minneapolis.

Karen O'Bryan spends her days drawing, painting, designing, drinking whiskey gingers with dear friends, and generally working more hours than necessary to keep life interesting. She loves exploring the themes of nature, beauty and identity in her work through color, pattern, and the human figure. She received a BFA from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design in 2007 and has displayed her work in galleries, magazines, community spaces, and of course, the interwebs. She currently resides in Minneapolis, MN with her monster-loving fiance, obese dog-loathing cat, and her drooly cat-terrorizing dog.

Living is the Spin Cycle


48 pages
#' x #" single signature with hand sewn binding
Published 2012

Living is the Spin Cycle

It isn’t actually a wrecked stock car. I just call it
that, the top two floors occupied, and the lower
48 on fire. The mirror on the wall has mastered
the technique of waiting graciously for someone
to appear. Meanwhile, I listen to the insect-like
buzz of my own blood in embarrassed silence.
The only instruction is FOLLOW ALL
INSTRUCTIONS. There are naked women
everywhere. I don't think I'll be doing laundry.


Sequences: Dark and Light


36 pages
8.5" x 7" single signature with hand sewn binding
Published 2012

What Everyone in Rehab Knows

That death is metaphor and reality.
So Margo dices her husband's pork chop until

it rolls in shredded waves on his plate, which he
pushes away. "You have to," she tells him. Then,

despairing, "He's losing weight again."

Mike kisses the crown of his wife's head, says,
"Hi, Babe," sits while she finishes her meal in slow-

motion in a wheelchair. He says they live on a lake,
that this winter through binoculars he watched

a goose thrashing, its legs frozen in the ice. Mike
tried but couldn't reach it. Instead he watched bald

eagles alight nearby, wait for the goose to exhaust itself, then attack, one more death observed by

the helpless. 



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