Native Poet Diane Burns: Gone to Soon.

Accidentally, I came upon Diane Burns. (1957-2006) (Lac Courte Oreilles/Chemeheuvi) It was after I posted my “Top Ten Things to say to a White Guy” on this blog. (See August 2010) A friend connected to the Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI), whose membership magazine has printed Burns’ works, said my post reminded her of a Burns poem that she then shared with me. It is the last and the longest of four poems I share with you. I like her direct, unapologetic, in-your-face attitude. 


Burns had striking features, which got her work as a model,  but what impressed people the most was the force of her words. Unfortunately, as is the case of many great talents, she drank herself to death at age 50, leaving behind a 15-year-old daughter and a scattering of poems so fierce they continue to churn up in literary anthologies two decades later.


Former NMAI magazine editor Terence Winch said “she first emerged as a powerful literary voice in the 1970s working as a poet and model in New York City. Burns’s first and only book of poetry, Riding the One-Eyed Ford (Contact II Publications, 1981), further established her reputation as a unique talent by challenging Native American stereotypes through sharp wit and honesty. In the 1980s, Burns joined a circle of poets and writers in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, reading her work at the renowned Bowery Poetry Club and Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church in-the-Bowery." 

Former magazine publisher Jeff Wright remembers traveling around with Burns as part of a state-funded CETA spin-off called POET (Poets’ Overland Expeditionary Troupe), “She was like an Indian princess living on the Lower East Side,” says Wright. “She was like the best bad girl that ever lived, and when she walked around she made everyone else wild. I fell in love with her immediately, like everyone else. But I was always afraid to get too close, because of the dark side.” 
________________________
Our people slit open the badger
to see the tomorrows 
in its blood.
Now 
look at me 
and see what our 
tomorrows hold
~Riding the One-Eyed Ford, Diane Burns, 1981

Diane Burns, 1993

Being a recovering alcoholic myself, I can vouch for the following poem. My guess is only those who have been through it know of what she speaks, although powerful for all I would assume.


No one can tell you 
ahead
of time
What
It’s like
To sweat & shake
& cold turkey 
and be Afraid 
to stay 
awake and 
Afraid 
to 
sleep 
and 
Afraid 
to not do 
either.
~Booze ’N’ Loozing Blues, Diane Burns, 1981

Daughter Britta with Dad Steve Ruona, 2006 at Burns' Memorial Service 

On American Indian Stereotypes 


I am Tequila Mockingbird. Yes, I am related to Isaiah Mockingbird, and yes, I am that face in the moon on the cover of the Carson’s record album. And the Marshmallow beer girl, and that’s me on every stick of Land O’Lakes butter… I can trace my lineage back to the beginning of time when the world was nothing but a scrap of mud on the tip of a loon’s nose.
~Diane Burns, from her 1983 essay, Tequila Mockingbird


I love the following poem, in my view it is a completely sophisticated, contemporary use of language. As former editor Terence Winch said, “This was not work that catered to white assumptions and stereotypes: just the opposite, in fact. Hers is a complex voice in which humor, bitterness, and hipness all coexist in service to the poem. This was a voice like that of many of my Indian friends and colleagues, but one rarely heard by the non-Native world”.


The poem was written in 1989. 

Diane Burns, Poet

Sure You Can Ask Me A Personal Question


How do you do? 
No, I am not Chinese. 
No, not Spanish. 
No, I am American Indian, Native American. 


No, not from India. 
No, not Apache 
No, not Navajo. 
No, not Sioux. 
No, we are not extinct. 
Yes, Indian. 


Oh? 
So that's where you got those high cheekbones. 
Your great grandmother, huh? 
An Indian Princess, huh? 
Hair down to there? 
Let me guess. Cherokee? 


Oh, so you've had an Indian friend? 
That close? 


Oh, so you've had an Indian lover? 
That tight? 


Oh, so you've had an Indian servant? 
That much? 


Yeah, it was awful what you guys did to us. 
It's real decent of you to apologize. 
No, I don't know where you can get peyote. 
No, I don't know where you can get Navajo rugs real cheap. 
No, I didn't make this. I bought it at Bloomingdales. 


Thank you. I like your hair too. 
I don't know if anyone knows whether or not Cher 
is really Indian. 
No, I didn't make it rain tonight. 


Yeah. Uh-huh. Spirituality. 
Uh-huh. Yeah. Spirituality. Uh-huh. Mother 
Earth. Yeah. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Spirituality. 


No, I didn't major in archery. 
Yeah, a lot of us drink too much. 
Some of us can't drink enough. 


This ain't no stoic look. 
This is my face.

Diane Burns was both a poet and painter. She was born in 1957 and passed away in 2006. When she died in 2006, she was working on a novel about a Native American beauty queen. 


For more information on Burns, check out her obituary. http://www.thevillager.com/villager_198/dianeburnsnative.html