ancient ones

A young Anasazi girl shared her wind note vision.

My name is Kokopelli the humpbacked flute player. I am 1,000 years old. My image is found on petrogyphs or rock carvings near here. My image is also on rock paintings or pictographs in kivas, ceramics and woven baskets.

The ancient ones, the Anasazi, regard me as a symbol of fertility, a roving minstrel or trader. People also call me the rainmaker, a hunting magician, trickster and seducer of maidens.

In the Pueblo myths my hump carries seeds, babies and blankets to maidens. I wander along the upper Rio Grande between villages carrying seeds and bags of songs on my back.

Because I represent fertility I am welcomed during the corn planting season and sought by barren women but avoided by maidens. If you listen well, you will hear my flute music echoing through canyons playing traditional songs.

She disappeared along fault lines in long undulating dry washes full of sagebrush playing her flute near rainbow mesas strewn with geological strata.

Tomas Transtromer - Noble Prize Literature

The Half-Finished Heaven

Cowardice breaks off on its path.
Anguish breaks off on its path.
The vulture breaks off in its flight.
The eager light runs into the open,
even the ghosts take a drink.

And our paintings see the air,
red beasts of the ice-age studios.
Everything starts to look around.
We go out in the sun by hundreds.
Every person is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone.
The endless field under us.
Water glitters between the trees.
The lake is a window into the earth.

The Tree and the Sky

There’s a tree walking around in the rain,
it rushes past us in the pouring grey.
It has an errand. It gathers life
out of the rain like a blackbird in an orchard.

When the rain stops so does the tree.
There it is, quiet on clear nights
waiting as we do for the moment.

The Couple

They turn the light off, and its white globe glows
an instant and then dissolves, like a tablet
in a glass of darkness. Then a rising.
The hotel walls shoot up into heaven’s darkness.

Their movements have grown softer, and they sleep,
but their most secret thoughts begin to meet
like two colors that meet and run together
on the wet paper in a schoolboy’s painting.

It is dark and silent. The city however has come nearer
tonight. With its windows turned off. Houses have come.
They stand packed and waiting very near,
a mob of people with blank faces.

Tomas Transtromer

your move

Amy is a shy girl. G7.

A wisp.

She feels sad because her father left to find work.

It takes courage to raise a child.

Reminds him of some adults - lost, sad, bored.

She is gradually becoming more self assertive.

She moved closer to his desk.

 

He asked about chess. Yes, she said, I can play.

Ok, he said, Let's play tomorrow.

The first day he immediately saw her thinking, planning and skill.

Now they play every morning from 745-815 before class begins.

Others stand around watching with short attention spans.

She had some opening weaknesses.

He gave her some suggestions to strengthen her play.

Castle early. Develop knights and bishops.

Now she plays with stronger confidence. 

This is a great joy.

He introduces chess to all the kids this month.

Life's lessons.

Your move, Amy said.

His heart sings hearing her voice.

rumi

When the ocean is searching for you, don't walk
into the language-river. Listen to the ocean,
and bring your talky business to an end

Traditional words are just babbling
in that presence, and babbling is a substitute
for sight.

-Rumi

save face idiot

They are thinking: We have ways to make you talk.

They don’t tell me this but I know how it works. I’ve read Tu Fu’s work. I’ve digested their bone dust history through dynasties.

“Yes, well, we’ll see,” she said. “We need to remind you to remember this very carefully.” Her voice rose an octave.

“The bent nail gets hammered down!”

"Just because you speak our language doesn’t mean you are special. We can revoke your visa and force you to pay a fine. We can put you away where no one will ever find you. We will discuss your situation with our leaders. We have driven the talented people abroad. Some went into hiding but we know where they are and we find them. We always do. We find them in their homes, schools, jobs. Some accepted positions at foreign universities where they form counter-revolutionary groups bent on overthrowing the state by writing articles, stories and books critical of their homeland.” 

Her face resembled nuclear fission. She pounded the table. “They are a disgrace! They are running dogs!” 

“I see,” he said, dropping his eyes to save face.