A man who was a crow was traveling. He didn’t know where he had come from or which way he was going. As he moved along he kept on thinking: “How did I come to be alive? Where did I come from? Where am I going?”
THE HEADS
(1)
big
(2)
bushy
(3)
flying
STIRRING THE ASHES
sun bear
moon buffalo
4 SONGS OF THE DAWN SOCIETY
(1)
dawn
(2)
dawn
(3)
dawn
(4)
dawn
THE BEAR ROBE
had no claws
THE BUFFALO ROBE
was headless
MIDWINTER VISION
paddles & ashes
EVENTS
fire a rifle
.
touch the sun
THE BIG HEADS
husk shoes
husk belt
husk crown
bear snout
THE BIG HEADS SEND A MESSAGE:
HELLO / STAY CLEAN / DON’T BE CONFUSED
DON’T STEP ON THINGS WHEN MOVING
(signed) YOUR UNCLES
THE BEAR
his paw up
to the sun
THE BUFFALO
head covered
with flowers
BUFFALO PUDDING
like the mud
he stamps in
BEAR DANCE
snort
snort
berries
BUFFALO DANCE
sniff
sniff
mush
THE SYMBOL
pine branch
on men’s room wall
above
the thermostat
.
pine branch
on mask
[The preceding represents half of a series of short poems originally published in A Seneca Journal (New Directions, 1978) but dropped from circulation when a selection of poems from that volume was included in the author’s New Selected Poems. The midwinter poems derive from observations of ceremonies during a number of years of residence at the Allegany Seneca Reservation in western New York state. I was led through these by various Seneca friends & companions, but in particular by Richard Johnny John, with whom I collaborated on several translation projects and who acted as my ceremonial Seneca father. Looking back at these, there is a kind of lightheadedness in the work, which I hope comes across still as playful rather than in any sense disrespectful. I remain mindful of the words of Ed Curry, who was then the Longhouse leader and who stressed for me the idea of play as lying at the heart of ceremony: “If everything’s all right, the one who says the prayer tells the people: I leave it up to you folks, & if you want to have a good time, have a good time!” A second series of midwinter poems will appear in a forthcoming posting on Poems & Poetics. - J.R.]
To begin ...
As the twentieth century fades out
the nineteenth begins
.......................................again
it is as if nothing happened
though those who lived it thought
that everything was happening
enough to name a world for & a time
to hold it in your hand
unlimited.......the last delusion
like the perfect mask of death
the nineteenth begins
.......................................again
it is as if nothing happened
though those who lived it thought
that everything was happening
enough to name a world for & a time
to hold it in your hand
unlimited.......the last delusion
like the perfect mask of death
Friday, May 1, 2009
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3 comments:
MISTRESS (to new servant)—"Why, Bridget, this is the third time I've had to tell you about the finger-bowls. Didn't the lady you last worked for have them on the table?"
BRIDGET—"No, mum; her friends always washed their hands before they came."
Visit here:
www.SmsJunk.ComThank You
Thanks, Jerry. And I am so glad you posted Murat's piece. I treasure that book and his work geenrally. - Chris King, Poetry Scores
Thanks for sharing...
___________________
Julie
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