Part 9: FILLED SKIN

Gendenwitha

.
Bluebird’s song in spring .....................
blackbird’s song in summer

whisked.............................................
from the forest
...
......................................on hawk’s wings
in autumn

Dim skin ........pale.....................
blue-gray of distance
..............................................only a point
......................................only a desire

beloved

sunrise brushes....................................................
lavender-gray..........................
rose and salmon..............


adored.......
morning ............of Sessondowah
above the gate
.............of coming light
.......................................................affixed
.........................................captured

bringing............................................................

the dawn.................................

we rise

...........................into heaven

apart.........
.........................................out of reach
.
.

Hanging Keys

.
Walking
to the lot
where Gendenwitha parks
Pahn finds
a delivery truck
the owner having gone off
leaving his keys
in the locking cap

Pahn remarks to her
that anyone
could take those keys
and get into that truck
seeing what might be there
and seeing
if there were anything
desirable

But Pahn is constrained
to consider it really
because she isn’t his
and he has no right
to go there
.
.

On the Forehead of Dawn

.
In a field of dim light
Gendenwitha begins
as a point
multi-rayed

beams splintered
as if through glass

coming out
of a distant left
to hover

while the sense
of a Spanish word
luminaria
poorly defined
coats the air behind him

thickening

losing her crisp
brittleness

acquiring
flexible
blunt spines

devolving into a green
fetal projection

she begins to speak
in tones of long
and straight

floating to his body

and attaches

shrinks
strengthens
becomes erect
.
.

Crying


Pahn is
with his wife (Aiks)

in Djuturna’s
apartment

dusty night
coming in
among the couches
beds and blankets
dark colors

Djuturna
holds him

he is glad of her embrace
feeling

it is not too much for Aiks to see

But Djuturna leads him
to a day bed
          by her kitchen
                      pulling him down over her
like a quilt

Her body
      feels hard and frozen
            with pain

Not letting go
sensing his uneasiness

she says
desperately

“I am so lonely”

it could be
Pahn talking

He is afraid of Aiks' jealousy

He gets up
saying

“She is with your husband—
Jahneuss”

and runs to the bedroom            where
he thinks
Aiks and Jahneuss are in bed
together

Yanking the blankets
from the heaving
underneath he finds
 Aiks playing with their son

and she says

“Djuturna’s husband
is out in the rain
              crying”

And it might be Pahn
crying


White Fish


Picking footsteps                                                         
over gravel run                                     
along the low
   clear pools               

after the rain                
which actually
has not yet fallen
the screen of trees                                    
separating

the descending stream             
from the edifices
of work

having left
the light children                       
happy
 and intrusive           
on the sand
of the riparian flats

he is noting                                                      
                         that the rain                                                        
will have washed
     the fingerlings
into the permanent stream

             and wondering
as he often does
why so few bother to save themselves
from the drying

Soon                                                                           
he encounters meanders                                 

under the drizzle                          
of aphid honeydew
           and sagging gossamer

          and pocket arms                
of cutoff oxbows—
still backwater
of the larger creek

And here observes                                                                      
the larger fish                                                   
in shoals                      
over the shifting            
brown silt

Seeing one that is longer
                        and thinner

perhaps a pike

he reaches in                                                    
          and catches it in his fist                                                       
    surprised                                                     
  at how easily                                      

wondering                                           
if it would be                            
good                           
and safe to eat                         

then shocked                                                               
to see                                                              
that its tail                                            
has already been bitten off

He lets it go

It reminds him now
of a white goldfish he had as a child
and how
he found it sick one day
floating   
 listless on its side
soon to die


A Small Dark Blue Myth


The time
between them
definite
from the beginning
                                              Gendenwitha is
known                                           not
                                             lying beside him
the length
of a spring                             she has never                            It seems
the span                                                                                          so
of evening                                    Aware                     inconsequential
the distance                          of her presence                          to speak
to her car                                    parting                     of an attraction

Last words                             the realization                         or to ask
insignificant                               entering                                that he
                                                the body of                 might have had
a black sweater                           waking                               once this
a chain                                     that a deity                         small light
new blue jeans                          of sunrise                          in his room
                                             has restrained
without                                         him                                     denied
acknowledgment                                                                    even the
                                                                                          conception
                                                                                           of a single
                                                                                              pinpoint
                                                                                     in the heavens

                                                                                        she is there
                                                                                  on the forehead
                                                                                              of dawn

                                                                                      beyond reach
                                                                                   his punishment
                                                                                          for having
                                                                                          come back
                                                                                             to earth
 

Inevitable Creation

.
Returning
from the act
of putting poems in
a mail box

having stopped to milk
his bounty of sensation

carrying it
in an old cloth up
the stairs to be washed

he looks back seeing
a trail of bright cream

his fertility
too copious
to hold in his hands

dripping onto the banister

running
along the beams

Fearing discovery
he tries to wipe it off

spreading
inadvertently damp
enamel too thick
and adhesive
to remove

.
.

Hermitage




Panning
the length
of the canyon

a version                      
of teenage        
exploration

rolling pavement
dry must
seeping creek

down from Priest Rock
Nomioss                                  
walking back                           
informs Pahn                
of the hermitage
above

up a rocky path
into the re-growth
of chaparral

past the ore tailings
Climbing a crude stair
through

abandoned stamp mill
chute
arriving

at Sunday school 
Kindergarten               
museum                       

crafts
tables

          kind             safe    quiet     gay priests
     giving instruction                    
     in glue and paper              



Pahn’s children
reasonably contented
already comfortable

in the environment
of their people
then coming away

with their father
    to the artifacts
 of explorers

and obscured ethnicities                     
their baskets
pestles

Pahn leaves      alone
with a spear
souvenir

meaningful
at first
but soon unneeded

He descends the trail
through
the laurel               

into the canyon                        




ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS


Some of these poems originally appeared in the following publications

Avocet
Dream International Quarterly
mojo risin'
The Muse Apprentice Guild (The MAG)
Transfer

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