Thirteen, what luck to have made it this far

Sooooo, guys. This is my like, show -offy poem for poets. This is about the Arawak people (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arawak) that Colombus encountered when he first landed. It's written from their perspective, because so little of their culture has survived due to their lack of a written language. It uses the Fibonnacci sequence, (0, 1,1,2,3,5,8 and so on) and every line that's a Fibonnacci number is a lie.

We Are Happy to Have You Here

There is plenty of of gold, bleeding from the mountain like gods' blood. Yes. We will fill the hawk's bell for you and we can do it until the stars unspiral.

(we find your ships impressive.
even now we are speaking of your swords in hushed tones, in caves.)

You were right, senor. We will make fine servants for your queen,
dressed in emeralds and moors-cloth. That is
if we don't sweat to death, bleed out in ways the court doesn't talk about.

The land here is good. You do not like the way we throw the seeds on the earth
trustinng that the arc of the universe bends towards justice and life.
Our games are complex. You will not bother to write down the rules.

When the dogs come, we will not run. Even as they eat
our children, we will lift our face to you, still trusting
your book, your greatness.

We did not go naked to offend you. The air is so warm
and the warmth hums around our bodies. We wish you would join us.

Your god sounds frightening. We will trust in the spirits
who speak to us without incense. Our spirits sound
like our dead sisters, yours sound like smallpox.

We do not regret welcoming you. It was a good decision.
We continue to prosper.