old dri’s lament - gail · pdf fileold dri’s lament without a head i am ... dead...
TRANSCRIPT
old dri’s lament
dri (Tibetan): a female yak
also by gail sher
ProseWriting the Fire: Yoga and the Art of Making
Your Words Come Alive • 2006
The Intuitive Writer: Listening to Your Own Voice • 2002
One Continuous Mistake: Four Noble Truths for Writers • 1999
From a Baker’s Kitchen • 1984/2004
PoetryThe Coper Pheasant Ceases Its Call • 2007
East Wind Melts the Ice • 2007
Watching Slow Flowers • 2006 DOHA
- • 2005
RAGA • 2004
Once There Was Grass • 2004
redwind daylong daylong • 2004
Birds of Celtic Twilight: A Novel in Verse • 2004
Look at That Dog All Dressed Out in Plum Blossoms • 2002
Moon of the Swaying Buds • 2002
Lines: The Life of a Laysan Albatross • 2000Fifty Jigsawed Bones • 1999
Saffron Wings • 1998
One bug . . . one mouth . . . snap! • 1997
Marginalia • 1997
La • 1997
Like a Crane at Night • 1996
Kuklos • 1995
Cops • 1988
Broke Aide • 1985
Rouge to Beak Having Me • 1983
(As) on things which (headpiece) touches the Moslem • 1982
From Another Point of View the Woman Seems to be Resting • 1981
old dri’s lament
Gail Sher
Qn i g h t c r a n e p r e s s
2 0 0 7
Copyright 2007, Gail Sher
All rights reserved.
Night Crane Press1500 Park Avenue, Suite 435
Emeryville, California 94608
No part of this publication my be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical,
including photocopy, recording, or any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
copyright owner and the publisher.
isbn: 978–0–9794721–0–7
For Brendan
To Jaime de Angulo
One of the most outstanding writers I have ever encountered
w illiam carlos w illiams
contents
month of the groundhog 1
month of the squirrel 21
month of the wild turnips 45
month of the deer running 87
month of the groundhog
�
old dri’s lament
without a head I amI am the throat
without a song I amI am the song
I am the song without a headI live between two mountains
4
you croak young frogas I dig for eatable rootsyou croak young frogas I dig up hairy rotten ones
cage of ribscarcass ablazesky full of frogsI suck your bones
�
hawk o hawk questing the remuda
on a swaythe bird will giveI am a bird
you neigh you shrilltoss your headI am the mare you smell
in the fogin the pastureI am your bowed neck
when the north windrushes over the moorI am your mane flying
6
I a pigeon strut along the wharf
by pails of fresh fish I strolllooking like an old babushka at market
through stalls I wend as evening glowswaltz as the band warms to its ragtime
a very large man hands me a cup of milk
�
parrot whom I hate
red sun birdI saw you gazeat noon’s fierce fire
red sun birdit is mineyou take from itand I suffer
eagles, vultureseat out your heartslike the Buddhas tigers tore with their teeth
o bird of peregrine hips
8
I am a facebeneath the hillsI dig for rootsthrow them in my pack
a face I amall wrinkles and bentpropped with a stick
I come out o’ the hillspass a bit of townbuy some grubfrom a half-wit
o child of stone axebefore-the-white-man boy
�
I am a beadI am a headbutton of glasson string
in a roware my sistersloud and colorful
rise up girlsmake a teepeemake a pouchstare at the sunstreaming in the doorand toward the hillsout in the distance
10
hey, the man
broad, squat anddark, very dark
a big man
clear sky bluebig sky and big clear street
sagebrushjackrabbitsjuniper gnarled, rough
but the valley spreads widehey mountain, are you there
11
so I walk into townhigh desertblue sky juniper wood smoking
I see Indians (Paiutes)standing along the streethey I saybut they . . . nothing
it’s clear and coolalmost fallreally beautiful weatherso I feel good
12
shotgun rabbitI am andthere’s another onehey, grab your gun
the sagebrush is tallI am a tall birdhunting rabbitwith my pea-cock
I make circles in the dirtattack sharply
rabbit fat is warmingrabbit skin is warmingrabbit flesh is warming
1�
stupa of mind’s darkness
I am a fielda fast-flowing riverback and forth I walkwhere two paths spread
I choose the right onebut a huge man blocks mego away huge man
glimmering in the distanceare butter lampsare giant peopleone, two, three heads
I eat sunI lay in grassa lizard scurries in the heat
14
lexicon of stallionswith the gift of footwe stole you back
a trident through my heelemerges through my head
the wordin my wristrears from the pyre
my memory of thatone spring
1�
giving & taking
my greed is an owlI chase it awaywith my breath it carries happiness
the problems of otherslands on my selfishnesswhich sinks to the earthI am pliable and soft
16
rain on the redwoodsdrip drip dripblue jays’ caw-for-the-morning subduedwood-rats vanishsquirrels stay in their holesdrip drip drip
1�
winter rain and the trees just stand thereand the grassshivering at the windowaren’t you cold trees?crows, aren’t you freezing?
18
poker stillstartled (you seem)on the pathby the baby maple
skin softcrevices shallowin a swirl of airbelly pumping fast
till my slow breathfuses with your heart
1�
nip nip from my loins
a hornets’ nesta great big hornets’ nestall the hornets streaming in and out
I watchpretty soon I throw rockscome out hornetsfly after me, bite me
20
sky burial
o wall of skullsvast wall of skullswash this bodyshave its headseat it shrouded in white cloth
month of the squirrel
2�
nagaland
under blue airI fell into the river
under blue airI heard the winter crane
when the p’hurba seared her handI pulled it from the boulder
then Buddha became a mountain
24
licking jiaka in the dawn, licking jiaka in the dawn, on a warm spring day of blooming flowers
in a mountain by the seaa rivulet runsa baby frog croaks
then freezes(I am not near)in sun its green skin jumps
curious, I approachstill still, primordially quiet
I wake, immediately clearabout something
2�
caves of increasing goodness
when it rainsa beautiful fringe of water drips across my roofwhen it rainsstones shiftcrushing monks to death
o dragon from the seajudge not my murdererfor the jonquils are outswallow him with the sky
26
o woman bird you wag your tail
treading the cementthe gray birdfrantic
in the heat of day(stunned)young thing
a gull drops . . . lifts . . .(something is in its beak)
2�
red flags red flags fluttering red flags
of the thirteen holy mountainsat the Yellow River’s sourceAnyemaqen, the godwatches over the Hundred Lakes
moon gates, decorated eaves,little bridges over flowing watertemples on hills overlooking the wateroverlooking the Yangtze-delta’s greens
28
on your departure
five tea-boiled eggstwo pieces of sesame cakepumpkin seedssweet-sour turnip sliversa flask of teainside a shoulder bag of Suzhou silk
2�
still-good butter no longer fresh but inexpensive and not dirty
old ma-pa, you made our family richold ma-pa, we don’t care what you did before
you came
the lama kindly sent youto my maternal grandmother
because you are smartour family has prosperedand made a name for itself in our locality
old ma-pa, you made our family richold ma-pa, we don’t care what you did before
you came
30
dead grass on the hillyellow hillfloppy with faded grasses
I look out and see youall slumped over
dead grass on the hillonce green in the raintall and thick with dandelions and flowersresilienteven lyrical
where is your songwhat happened to your medoly
�1
“give me that hoe”said the boy to his sisterwho only cared about her rabbit
since he didn’tshe pretended not to hear
“I have long ears” she sangin the squeaky voice of an animal
“pass me the hoe!how many times do I have to ask”
32
wind-washed on the high plateau
mountain snowdeeper than a tall manmountain snowI cannot walk
inside I walkmake quick headway to the villageswallow steamy noodles flecked with meat
mutant meme less-than-halfo snowcan’t you see I’m desperate
��
turnsol of the badlands
black of dawnqueen queen of the black essencewhisper to me
I wander at nightthrough the holy-mesa’s thorns
there a demonessspirit untamed . . .an old man beginsspeaking of a strange experience
piles of corpseshandsome, fragrant, sleekfill me, dancingat the bottom of tall mountains
34
a boulder fell from the skya boulder fell from the skyno one around . . . nothing up the cliffdon’t go near the cliff, warned a woodcutterfor a leopard, having birthed a litter,Is keeping them there
I walk near the cliffI run near the cliffthe leopard with her kittensthe leopard with her kittensjust as the woodsman had said
��
I saw a manI saw a manbehind the village, along the streamthat ran through a dense patch of trees
I saw a manthin as a sticksketched out of charcoal
I saw a manthin as a stickwith a huge stomach,a cow’s stomach
I called to my friendto come see the manbut there was no man
36
I toss you my wifeo lappet-faced bird
o whitebird whitebird, white stork with red legs
when in the mountainsnow is deepto the valley you comewith your white-white wings
eat-upeat-up fast
��
the canyadas turn black
I am a head rolling in the grasslaughing at my brother sun(who thinks he is the sun)
I am a foot running by the seasquinting at a gull(who has caught its mirror reflection)
I am a stomach wounded by a spearcrying for the whale(snorting just below the surface)
the moon is redI am whittling somethingleaning against a treesmelling death up close
38
I, Phug-shag, warrior god of Tema-mo’s retinue,am pleased that you are using my mountain for study
above green fields of janma treesdead leaves blownorth wind sweeps
about green fields of janma treesdead leaves blownorth wind sweepsa million sickle leaves
��
at my crazy behest
and he fires the valleywith a great roar and loud (loud) explosionsand the valley, clogged with smoke, allows nothing but hiding my eyes
suddenly it diesthough the god is offended(he does not like anyone cutting green branchesand is even offended if locals cut dry wood)
crows cawed, crows barkedloudly (loudly) all day long,say friends say friends from far awayto appease the godwe made a black tea offering
next morning at Tsirab’s templeI say I am sorry, ask forgiveness, andmake a black tea offering
Tsirab is not angryin fact he is quite pleasedTsirab is definitely on your sidehe is not upset at all
40
fogand that deep-throated hornbellowing from your folds
from the ocean floorwhere sea-cows moan
sour earthstagnant like a womansloppy and wet
you are druggedon brittle haunches you squatno elasticity left
41
O Goddess Protectress Who Holds the White UmbrellaPlease Accept this Tea and Smoke from Branches of
Evergreen
follow me, follow me, saida naked black womanriding saddleless on a big black mule
that was Palden Lhamothe Glorious Goddess, the protectress of Drepungit means you will be entering Drepung said Aku-mewho himself had learned the dharma there
a tall, handsome manin a white Tibetan chubapointed out a pathgo in that direction he said
that was Nechung, the protector of Drepunghe was pointing to the southwhere Lhasa rises from Choo-chur
42
floppy hooves among the savin
in an iron fence with iron thornsencaged said the seer
trapped inside the hollow of astone-animal’s horn
I see a strong black manwith many eyes on his armsentering the fence bringing something out
4�
I saw him in the dew, through a crack in the dawn
sit down for a whilesaid one with long intestinesnobody could rush him
he saw, he says,and you can see it in his eye,Tanpai Gyaltsan giveDawa Drolma the reliquary
when you come to dietake my mindI have breathed from itall suffering
I skip byon my way placesno one knows of our love
44
caves of increasing goodness
when it rainsa beautiful fringe of water drips across my roofwhen it rainsstones shiftcrushing monks to death
o dragon from the seajudge not my murdererfor the jonquils are outswallow him with the sky
month of the wild turnips
4�
little flyin your buzz, stillness ringsI love stillnessin my still homelittle fly
48
for a second you were nervous(I saw it in your wings)you landed on my napkinturned clockwise
but after turning clockwiseyou walked around for a while
sky of fall o sky of fallleaves wind-brushed, debris everywherehere, taste a bit of the summerI live on
4�
fly of snowblack fly, big flyyour time is passedno one can help you
50
go back to your hole gopherdo not destroy what the ants have builtyour hill is uselessno one will bother you
�1
o fox, your breathno purr nosilent bravado
52
in grassy fogthe old mare standsskinny tail limp
��
pork and grainpork and grainopen their mouthspush it inpush it in hard
54
of nilotic waisto tigress of the eastfigment of the rapids’ nestling backwater
��
looking toward the hills
hummingbird hummingbird treading spring airyour red flower will diein its wake, hard dry eartho hummingbird what will you do
56
flickering wingseach forms a Va gathering circling of flickering V’sflip flop flip
��
a bank of birdsflocks of blacko black wall of winterhowling wind of winter
58
gulls ride sandstrut like kingsbeyond the purple crocus
��
tonight the owlthrough rain I hear your purrlow-slung, ancient
60
having circled the flamesof the vidyadhara’s pyreold crow, what is in your heartas you rest at the plain’s bottom
61
above the waterneither burning nor drying the waterone red hawkcloses its eyesas it sinks belowthe water’s sound
62
o buzzard in the skyinvoked the girlriding pillion
6�
cold grass in the storm
tall bladesflogged by the storm
64
ever openyour jaw swings lowo orchid-on-a-stemwhere is your throat
6�
pot of pebbleszinnias and pebblesburning in the sundissolving into light
66
damsel treefor a secondthe junco . . .
6�
elephant maninvisibleenormous in your skull
68
I breakI break in sheer canyon
coyotes yapping (howling)
6�
in hindsight a giantskin irreconcilable
hair-split skyI rub up to the shadow
70
thin girlin a shawl kneelingholding a match to the wood
�1
horseback opera
no talking, no singingjust patterns madeas lamas ride
72
I am a headwhen my mother gave birthmy eyes like dziaroused her eyrewhich she devoured
��
this mother is not safeshe thinks only of herselfshe will eat youin the night she will ravage you
74
moulting his format wood’s edge buried in leavesam Iam my mothermother, please don’t flee
��
gentle arabamong your beanshair dyed pink
76
in three years I’ll be dead, he said
purple air dressed the treesthe night being snowless
��
live wellwe also will live
through the brushthe blind old manpoking at things with his stick
78
wild o too wildfrom the juice of himfrom the sudden swing of his caracole
��
old leopard-beggar, go awaythe bounty money you want(though your pelt was stolen)go away old leopard-beggar
80
sea-shell clanamong the ghostswith your gritpaint the wall white
81
I thought I was myselfbut I am only a throatplease come in I sigh
82
old lady & bird
is a canary that?no, it is her heartawake
8�
galactic world sharp as a crucifix
blue-black treewet from nightthe stars hold stilland I, too, listen intently
84
fog lurkstree tips through billows of graya young breathparched but opensits inside your glory pool
8�
let water be a sob
sea-shells singsea-shells sing my tearsat the lonely shoreat the vast grinning ocean
86
hot day in winterwinter which is latewinter, why are you late
month of the deer running
8�
o Raven, my poison, ComEBull-snake, my poison, ComECrablouse, my poison, ComE
Jim Lizard, he sit on a rock all daypretty clever but not seriousa damn liar
90
luck
a man needs(must find)or he’ll just be common
maybe a wolfmaybe a bird
�1
HA! yells the guessershe’d laugh, shows the bones,throws them in the airsways side to side
where’s so-’n-so
parked over there by that juniper
I get upspit
behind the flamethe camp is quieta few babies cry
92
why, you ask whywell, I go to woods(I’m a young girl)look for berriesbut my poison find mehe scare me
I don’t look for himHE FIND ME!
��
tin lizzie is fixedbut we stayin the sagebrushspitting brown juicefrom one of the car’s foot-boards
nowhere is treesemaculate greenand lush (full of leaves)
everyone knowseveryone sees itlike his own skin
no roadjust busha clump, a ditchsix eight tin lizziesclunckity-clunkrattling through
a campfire startsthen anothershe’s weaving a basket of willow twigs
you bring firewoodI cook, all right
94
within words its quantity long short
the fire soarswe’re lying aroundcome on, SINGthe poisons don’t hear
a woman saysyou did pretty goodyou helpthat’s good
a man sayshe ask Ravenis he going to dieRaven says I don’t knowask the others
sick manin a funklistensin his belly
��
upper land I amit is dark andmy wolf-bitch sways
it’s dusk (I hear some shots)
my poison don’t hearmountain lion, wolf,too far away, don’t hear
96
how you steal a dog
I dunno
how you steal a poison(some shamans do)
sure I do!they steal mine tooif they can
��
I’m pretty sickmaybe I dieI doctor myselfyou stayhelp sing
maybe I dieI dunnomy shadow’s on the roadcan’t find me no more
ohh . . . it hurtinside right here
everybody dieI ask my poison tonight
sometime my poison very far away, not hearmany sing, he hear better
98
I catch a new damaagomehe’s wildI’m training himfollows me like a dog
here you comeyellin’ your head offdamn ityou scare him away
the sick woman’son the groundunder a blanketon a bed of tules
I singI suckput my lips to her bodyand pull HARD
pass me that lard can
next daythe sick womanshe toss me some beadsit’s not much she says
it’s okayI throw them to my niini
��
jackrabbits hares hundreds HUNDREDS pop pop pop
so he goes into the bushhas a lousefor one of his poisonsgets his louse to call hers
pretty soon a womangets up from her campfire(she doesn’t know why)wanders toward the bush
right where the old man waits
100
I sing into the hornmy voice in the horn
ha! my father is calling meI’d better go find him
my damaagomehe look for the horn
101
it’s nightwe’re stumbling downa steep traildarn steep country
I am slow gossip
slow but erectdark-chocolate skina few long white whiskers
102
them people you don’t seecoyotes, fox, dinihowis, damaagomesthey don’t know methey might hurt meI’m say’n lookI’m a friendI’m feedin’ youI don’t mean you no harm
it’s duskhe chewsspits in the four directions
10�
about the mortar near my hearth
you shouldn’t do thathe’s getting’ too hottoo near the firemake him madbring bad luckmake you sickmake your children sick
old dri’s lamentwas set in minion, a typeface designed by Robert Slimbach
and first issued in digital form by Adobe Systems,
mountain View, California, in 1989.
Typesetting & production: Claudia Smelser.
Printing & binding: Lightning Source, Inc.