13 October 2006

male bear
leg three
Mt Katami can be seen from th front door of th Ice Cave.  upon
stumbling outside at 2am – if vision b clear – one is faced w/ th sober
darkness of a purple rock face.
it controls th clouds.  peak stabs th gray belly of th sky for snow.  rarely
is a day so perfect, though a blue sky mightstretch clear from horizon
to horizon, that a navy blue touque isn’t pulld down around th summit.
rolling foothills do not extend gently upwards, rather teeth of rock bite
up to high-altitude meadows – smooth and silvery-green cut only by th
silent rumble of avalanche chutes.
if rocks were razors
seemingly asleep
th mtn breaks bones. yet all th while providing food for its children
whom it loves so hard – bears and moose and goats and ravens and
insects and worms and wolves
                lurk and fight and sleep and die
in animal heaven. death always
but noticeable only
in th changing colours of th leaves
                that descend
as would a clouds of insects
ovr a corpse
enter th’imprints of boots. imprints…but what are you seeking, skirting
along th’edges of meadows w/shy animal movements?
a mtn rolls not forth as a sea, and therefore cannot communicate
through a submissive lull. you think yr strange imprints in th ground
are a part of something, father?
no more than a raindrop to a puddle, then.  youv gone too far, too far.
and now what you’ve run to – you run around. still searching, talking
to the birds until th'end of time – making friends with a fat robin –
yes settler, long distance runner, yr chords do not resonate off th solid
rock.
                solitude is only
a heart echo
father stone, who has draind me of all patience – what lies beneath
those cliffs that made you choose? what did you feel – th’eagle’s
uplift, or th downward spiral of an earthworm? you spoke less each
time you returnd. but could you not just stay for winter too, when
you were just as cold.
those great brown kings of the forest you befriendd – but where were
you king? fotographing them like children at a bloc party, did they
finally commit you to their soil?
perhaps you were king only on th highway, driving away. to an
unknown fear – two places, interchangeable like thumbs. but how
could you chose nature. was it words that alienated you? did you get
that feeling that you were supposed to carry on? maybe you still roam
those forests like a subject of deep nature.
I remember being in th backyard w/you and I was too small
to see ovr th fence. but
I grew w/o any help, anticipation gripd me, and one day when I was tall
enough I peerd ovr th fence and it was just another empty yard. so I
climbd th fence and stumbled through th yard
and came to a hedge
I looked over it, and again
an empty yard… and th’empty yards continued. I stood in the middle
of a yard like a blonde girl in th middle of th’ocean
                soul swaying and threatening to drown and so
they say I have attaind island status or at least
am buoyd by an ivory anchor in th’eye of rolling
nervousness – avoiding storms by scrambling below deck and
avoiding heat by swimming w/whores
                and I get that feeling that I’m supposed to carry on 
time lost a perfect wonderwall and grew th knotted forest, piled those
rocks and charmd it all with th heil of eternity. towering ovr other
mtns like a stone-face killer, yet stretching so beautifully upwards
                w/horizontal bands of furrowd snow
as tourists fotograph from
th shoulder
                                im pulled ovr highwayside, window rolld down,
behind an idling camper w/Alaska plates
and I can trace Katami’s temper in gusts
blowing down through th pines
th cold stone slopes stretch all th way home
my house/yr house/our house /empty house
muddy bootprints trudged across my body for near a decade. Im trapd
beneath a landslide caused by a random footstep, and I have to get out.
even moses knew when the witching hour had arrived; when th
shadows bloom to th mtn we must go.
dare you?  then meet me in a meadow.  w/birds around th moon and
soldiers in th field, can you still not grasp love? no – neither can I. th
rugged imprint it leaves behind fills with rain and freezes, and with icy
feet I walk through accidents.
I will find a piece of you there, upon those heights, and I will kill it ded.
when I lie face down on my wedding day I don’t want yr hand on my
shoulder, nor do I want your dirty ingrown nails cutting the umbilical
cords of my children. please do not den in my mares any longer.
ultimately
you have ripd away life
and love
and replaced them w/a mtn
                                                made me
kill my
rocky mtn high
I have no pulse      th women are scared and dry       and th hills are dry
my eyes are red and dry
I cannot shake you
but I will find you
and shake you to dust

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