I could go north to Gushan temple, or west to Jiating.
I could. But here… here, I am between the calm water and the drifting clouds,
Where the young orioles squabble over perches in the sun,
Where the swallows have returned, and now are harvesting the spring mud.
Unruly flowers sprang up while I was looking elsewhere,
While my horse waded through the new grass.
No, I’ll go east again, where I long to wander
Beneath the green poplars, on White Sand Trail.
I too have sentimental leanings,
Inchoate sensibilities,
Vague yearnings,
And feel the pull of those
Old, stupid, useful words, like
Love; dreams; desire;
From which nothing can save us
But the things themselves:
On our kitchen table lie
The blown still-moist petals
Of Friday’s flowers.
Stumbling through the grounds at sunrise,
With dew-damp pollen clinging to my ragged pants cuffs
And having left all my friends behind,
I found myself here.
Beauty amazes me!
Charms hanging in the doorway!
Beauty amazes me!
I’ll dance with the altar-cloth!
Beautiful all that lies before me!
Beautiful all that creeps up behind!
Beautiful, every side I turn to!
I turn, and turn, and turn!
So here I am wandering around
In the house of happiness,
In the house of long life
That no one enters alive.
Speaking to dragons is a great art,
To be seldom practiced.
A man who speaks often to dragons may
Become like a dragon.
The dragons do not seek out men.
They hoard their wisdom like jewels.
The least scale from the belly of a dragon
Might ransom any of the kings of men.
Four days ago
These women dreamed in the sunlight
And now there are babies
Wriggling at their breasts.
Four days ago
These were babies crying
And now they are running everywhere
Playing huntsman.
Four days ago
These were boys playing
And now they practice shooting
And ask about their father.
Changing Woman said:
Such a dream I had.
The Sun himself took me as I slept!
I would not have thought him
Such a careful lover.
White Shell Woman said:
I slept, and as I slept
Old Sun, that sly fucker,
Came down and slipped it in me.
I woke still wet.
There they go again, stupid birds.
They’ve been flying up and down the Ridge
All fall.
As if that would bring him back.
If you believe in fairies, they will show up sooner or later.
However, because fairies do not believe in Time,
They may come long after you have stopped believing in them.
In fact this is the most likely thing.
Fairies are both curious and easily bored.
They are fascinated by objects of all kinds.
For example, they are fascinated by clothes, although
It is a fact that fairies do not ultimately care for clothes.
However, because they are curious,
They may try on all of yours,
Then discard them on the floor next to the hamper
Or maybe somewhere else
Which is in fact the most likely thing, because
Fairies do not believe in Order.
Very few people know this about fairies,
Mostly they assume that fairies are just very hard to please.
(a found poem, from the works of Washington Matthews)
It has lasted eight days before
the four singers,
after long and tedious instruction by the shaman,
come out
to sing this song.
Five hundred people are, perhaps, assembled
to witness the public ceremonies
of the night;
some have come
from the most distant parts
of the wide
Navajo
territory; all are preparedto hold their vigil until dawn.
A score or more of critics are in the audience
who know the song by heart and are
alert to discover errors.
It is a long song,
and consists almost exclusively of
meaningless
or archaic
vocableswhich convey no idea to
the mind of the singer. Yet not
onesyllable
may be forgotten
ormisplaced.
Ifthe slightest error is made,
it is at once proclaimed by the assembled critics,
the fruitless ceremony comes to an end, and
the five hundred disappointed spectators
disperse.
But
fortunatelythey are not as particular with all their songs
as they are
with this.
Bag of Anything 