Born Wrong (Hillbilly)

I was born on the wrong side of the tracks
to the wrong sort of people
in that wrong countryside

our fertile feilds
only housed herds of wild black sheep
turning our souls over
to family absorbed from all points

a big white dog
chained in the front yard
barking at strangers

half a dozen junked trucks
up on the flattened road
the old trailers out back
wild roses enclosing the property

the house full of books
stacked in great big cases up to the ceiling

the tourists stopping to take pictures
on the long back road down to the ferry
asking why anyone would live like this

"but isn't that garden pretty!
oh how quaint!"

us silently pissed at every one of them
breaking the calm hot day
with their gawking
'we live here to get away from you fuckers'
we mumble out loud

an old rich man
looking in the door to say
"oh how cozy!"

to that small cabin
kept warm by my great grandmother's cookstove
and decorated with my grandmother's paintings

the ghost standing at the window
frowning at guests
my mom chasing trigger happy
American hunters from the 400 acres of grasslands and hills

"Can't you fuckin' read the 'NO HUNTING' signs!"

attentive dog close to her heals
letting out a loud bark
warning the bears to stay away

up in our fruit trees
stealing big fat pears
ripping the branches down

"Goddamn it!" my mother yelled
setting the dog on them

they say we were born wrong
no wealth
no health
no city streets
no shopping districts
no fast cars
no big buildings
no theatres
no banks
no convenience stores

only miles upon miles of land
treacherous in its beauty
stretching out to the horizon

the careful wind blowing down the valley
bring the heady scent of alfalfa blooms
and baking grass in the sunlight

only the constant rush of the creek by the house
clear water over coloured worn rocks
with green grass snakes fishing at the edge

fat crickets singing love songs
and orange-bummed bees buzzing
in my mom's catnip bush

we were born all wrong
we live all wrong
at just the right time
in just the right place
on ancestral homestead
down the slopes of this never ending country

curse your cities
curse your highways
curse your speed
and curse your inability to understand

the simple joy of fresh baked bread
and a fire in the camp pit
out back
starring at a million billion stars
stretching on the cusp of forever

The Blood of the Morning

the pool deepened under me
as the sun
fractured the water
into dark depths of filmy
rakish shadows

I saw gleaming
to the edge of dawn
the blood of the morning
splitting the sky in two
and the water slipped
up my neck and into my mouth

clear coldness crept
shivering fingers
to the outline of my bones
and little ripples
waved around me
with my name slowly ebbing away

I shook my legs heavy
splashed my face
frigid to the rays
of golden headed raptures
down the all too clear skies
to the droplets glistening
in my floating nest of dark hair

silence
all mine
to tree lined shores

not a whisper
to corrupt
a break in the tidal flow
of purple star fish
and chirping shatter bird
high above the cliffs
and far from clattering
pebbled beaches

the waves reached
and flung their little rounded bodies
back
and I could hear the sound
as if a hundred little stone fingers
scrapping the sandy floor

only watered downed wood
will know my passing
a gentle slipping
through the water
my languid eyes open
to a polished depths

where they are
acrobats
of bug catchers
with glistening rainbow scales in the new day sun
flung to the heavens
like an arcing glitter to velvet dappled wings

and when skin is a fleshed pink
to the violet hue
of lapping
with tongue and gentle limb
though fluid in touch
and sliding between waves

I will find that rocky shore
with barest of foot
and nakedest of skin
dripping
a blushing shade of
my innocence
to the tilting sentience of emerald trees
akin to this my pastoral place of home
soaked with water-smoothed body and bone
in the long sandy line of the crystaled shimmering dawn

The Thickening Wood

I ran through wet tree branches
and felt the recoiling sting shock me
back to my own disheveled mind.

With little droplets of sap in my hair
and deep red welts blooming on my skin
I ran, feet pounding against the needled floor.

I ran, even as the rain pelted me pink
against the dark green hands
reaching for me.

I ran, sloshed through the creek,
upon smooth coloured pebbles worn flat
and perfect for skipping.

I ran through tall grass, with the alfalfa in bloom,
scraping at my thighs;
little purple flowers caught up in my dress.

I ran and startled big black birds to air
a great rush of wings
past my ears, all frightened.

I slid down the hill once dust
now turned to mud in the rain,
splashing up my knees with wet dirt.

I pounded down the road, a muddy rut,
my breath coming in rattling gasps,
my legs aching fire sinking into the damp ground.

At the end of the trail,
I dove back into the thickening wood
as the sticker bushes clung to me, pulling me from my path.

The canopy closed over my head,
lushed green deepening the further I fled
into those flats of wild roses and bull pines stretching for the sky.

The black berries brambled in my way
and ripped at my skin with swaying thorns;
sweet juice staining the souls of my feet black; berries crushed under foot.

I ran, not once looking behind me but frantically sprinting faster;
I outran my slicked thoughts of you to the crumbling river bank,
and when I got there I dove straight in and let the flood waters pull me away.

Bull's Blood

he raised the axe above his head
his swing long and true
the moonlight glinting down the blade
his hands straining against the wood

with my feet pounding down that dirt road
I saw his arms moving
my lungs burning with air
my blood cursing my veins

Big Black Bull
it's hot breath snorting
dust kicking up under its hooves
an eye gone wild pulling against the bonds

Big Black Bull
calling out to the night in frantic timing
my legs faltering as I ran down that drenched road
the darkness cutting before me

the Bull as black as the night surrounding it
I raised it up with my own hands
raised up that Bull
and called him mine

when the axe met its mark
that wild eye rolled back one last time
his arms shuddered with the impact
and the blade came away now dark with blood

finally reaching his side
he turned to me and said,
'gather up the blood in a steel dish,
for to waste nothing is to want for nothing'

I dropped down beside that great beast
its hot breath now cold and un-stirring
I dug my fingers into the dark bloodied fur
and nestled the dish beneath its throat

I wiped my hands on my long skirt
staining the fabric the deep red of Bull's Blood
my hands dark in dirt and fur
Bull's Blood running down my arms mingling in my own veins

I am now a bride of Bulls
mistletoe tangled in my hair
white Bulls at my side
my skin dark with blood

I who have seen them thundering from the sea
I who have seen the priests in the trees
I who have stood as Bull opened up the ground
I who have rode upon his back with swords in my arms

the Blood is flowing in me now
forcing my heart to beat
I turn one mad eye
and my breath comes out in a hot snort

he pivots to me at the sound
the axe still at his side
I run my hand through my hair
and feel for horns growing there

Fire Break

beyond the fire break
the woods are burning
columns of dark smoke
snaking fingers into the hazy sky

the heat of the summer day
becomes choking
the crackle of pine trees
becomes deafening

the forest screams
in the throws of an unstoppable force

as the night falls
the heat remains
and the vast fires
turn the skies red as false dawn

a boiling licking tongue
scrapes the blood red moon
the world speaks a language of dry tinder
moaning in burning ecstasy

behind the blackened columns of cinder
with a face streaked in ash
I listen to the forest die and be reborn
and in turn chase my mind
to thoughts of driving rain

If only there was water
If only there was no fire but water
If only water drowned us all
If only...

The landscape aflame twists in whirls of smoke
a wall of fire rages
I turn my face
everything explodes
I drop my head and run

I feel that fire reaching for me even now
with dancing digits of orange
rain forever just a dim wish
I wake choking on imaginary smoke
and see all the world burning behind my eyes

I sit upright
and through clenched teeth
wish for death by drowning

Heartland

from the coast that bore me
in the womb of green needles
and the dark brown scent of ashen bark
where cedar trees sing
of the wet winds on cold nights
and the lights across the water
call to me from the shore

to the homelands that cradled me
with the warmth of ancient fir trees
praying to clear skies with soft clouds
near the circle of stones
where lichens creep with the slowness of ages
and the echoes of water over rock
sound of far off voices

if I should ever leave this place
I fear that I shall never know peace
that I shall birth no other land
and my hands will never rest
may my soul linger here
forever in the twilights of the West
with these sentinel forests ever living within my dreams