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These are notes to lightning in my bedroom.
A star forged from linen thread and patches.
Purple, yellow, red like diamond suckers, children
of the star gleam on sweaty nights. The quilt unfolds
against sheets, moving, warm clouds of Chinook.
It covers my cuts, my red birch clusters under pine.
Under it your mouth begins a legend,
and wide as the plain, I hope Wisconsin marshes
promise your caress. The candle locks
us in forest smells, your cheek tattered
by shadow. Sweetened by wings, my mothlike heart
flies nightly among geraniums.
We know of land that looks lonely,
but isn't, of beef with hides of velveteen,
of sorrow, an eddy in blood.
Star quilt, sewn from dawn light by fingers
of flint, take away those touches
meant for noisier skins,
annoint us with grass and twilight air,
so we may embrace, two bitter roots
pushing back into the dust.
|Lines for Marking Time||7|
|Midnight on Front Street||8|
|Leap in the Dark||13|
|In the Longhouse, Oneida Museum||16|
|Elegy for Jim White||18|
|Nett Lake, Minnesota||20|
|A Nation Wrapped in Stone||25|
|Reaching Yellow River||26|
|Beginning the Year at Rosebud, S.D.||30|
|Horses in Snow||35|
|Song for Facing Winter||37|
|The White Land||39|
|I'uni Kwi Athi? Hiatho||40|
|An Old Man's Round for Geese||46|
|The Old Woman in a Shoo||48|
|Scraps Worth of Wind||51|
|Seal at Stinson Beach||53|
|For Heather, Entering Kindergarten||54|
|Variations for Two Voices||55|
|Love, The Final Healer||58|
|Music for Two Guitars||63|
|A Song for What Never Arrives||64|
|Reaching New Town, N.D.||65|
|Dream of Rebirth||66|
|Made of Mist||71|
|Woman Seed Player||74|
|Lynn Point Trail||76|