Gerald Vizenor

feathery moths flutter on the screen unbearable sounds of summer oblivious tonight that my reading light is not my day stout bodies cut and bounce near a crack in the screen and beat inside a paper shade sacraments of a monumental natural presence we are drawn forever by the moths to other lights neighbors down the road

east the whole moon burns behind jamestown seven wings of geese light the thin ice west the asian sun bloody on the interstate spring flowers break on the gray prairie exit fingerprints on the rearview mirror feral shadows transposed near fargo

american indian outside the guthrie forever wounded by tributes high western movie mockery decorations invented names trade beads federal contracts limps past the new theater wounded indian comes to attention on a plastic leg and delivers a smart salute with the wrong hand precious children muster nearby theatrical poses under purple tapestries castles and barricades on stage with reservation plans native overscreams rehearsed on stage at sand creek blaze of bodies at mystic river frozen ghost dancers chased to death by the seventh cavalry at wounded knee culture wars wound the heart and dishonor the uniform forsaken warriors retire overnight in cardboard suites under the interstates american indian decorated for bravery invented names salutes the actors with the wrong hand at the guthrie treaties break behind the scenes night after night the actors new posers mount and ride on perfect ponies out to the wild cultural westerns hilly suburbs with buffalo bill

winter sea over my shoes shadows and bright round stones at san gregorio every wave turns a season forests adrift empty shells memory of fire so faraway in the mountains and canyons silent pools raise my faces by early tide slight my hand shoulders almost ashore light breaks over the plovers certain steps my traces blood, bone, stone turn natural and heavy waves rush the sand