[Originally published in Khurbn & Other Poems (New Directions, 1989), “The Nature Theater of Oklahoma” fell out of general circulation when I incorporated the title poems of that book along with Poland/1931 and The Burning Babe, into Triptych (2007). The principal reference points in the present set are a season spent in
someone arrives from tishimingo
it is practically
it is practically the calories of summer
plin plin is the name for tea
in
the curtains rise & fall
the shadow of a mirror
in a yellow lake
the shadow of a town called shootout
it is practically the way we are
it is practically the way the car toots
down the draw,the car toots down the draw
2
the memory of godis god the cauliflower glistens
like a handkerchief
torn from the sun
& flailing ice
& oranges
that conjure up her image
dimly
step into the light,
pale sister,
let the flies walk up your arm
in search of honey,
evading the tiny hairs, their world
the mirror of your blue milk,
daughter of the sun,
the buds are red for you in
the birds are blue
3
pawnee bill rides barebackinto my smeared horizon
myths of soft eels
undulant
ambitious
they knock us off our feet
a black man
with his fist shoved upa cow’s ass
what a fancy smile!
what perfect choppers!
like the hands of god
in
4
like the hands of godin
angels pray for you
the choirs wear
white robes the dancersprance in leather
setting the final derrick up
the road to cowboy country,
scarcely a league away,strides covered by a giant’s gumshoes,
plumb forgotten,
oily
the land returns to
verdure & the countryturns around
& names itself
OMEGA
5
“as simple as a dollar bill“in
the ides of march in shawnee
in the middle of a prairie
birds go nutsthey make a fallacy of fables
cadaverous
discolored
the fist sinks into its second face
the one seen in the cornerof the bar, the golden tooth
reflected in the mirror
a state of grace, a place
called
6
“you are a bear” she said& he became
a bear, he wore it
like his skin
the lost look
the interior grace
that surfaced on him,
he was faceless too
& walked inside
his footsteps half
an animal who loves
his other half,
the silence of the moon
over his head,
this is the mark the man’s arm
scribbles, darkly,
on the cave wall,
in the cave,
in
7
the nature theater of oklahomaopens its little flags
flap recklessly
against the southern wind
a history of poetry
a history of jesus christa history of tishimingo
the cowhand plays
at coon can, holdsthe final heart
the horse called kafka
cannot prance or turn
“I love your boots” she says
a history of where we are
8
in the heart of the indian
a chicken in every coop
a jesus in every garage
a tiger on every bush
the state of nature
in the state of
old men & febrile women
in white shawlsthat the grandfathers stitch with hexagrams
of a star as black as tar
o my oklahoma jesus
1 comment:
Not only a beautifully phrased and widely evocative poem, but it really captures the sad and special feel of Oklahoma, the compensations needed daily for the trail of tears, the openness so brilliantly at odds yet congruent with Kafka. Amerika as seen by a foreigner, the truth comes from those who are in but not of.
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