DRIFTING AND DREAMING THE ACCESSIBLE RIVER

IN THE TRIBUTARY OF ACCESSIBLE RIVERS

Is it more difficult to begin now?
To be beginner? Beginning again,
principiante? I don't know the answer to that,
ascending and descending each day.

Accessible River. El Río Secreto. Secret River.

¿No es secreto? ¿Es broma? No.

That Jesus is one of many Christs.
Yes. There have always been those like Jesus.
Yes. Mary. Most of them women.
All times and places.
Jesús y muchas Jesusitas.

¿Que piensa Dios?
¿Y Jesús también?

No tengo aceso de mente de Dios.
Pero, no creo que Dios es celoso.
Creo que Dios no dice mucho. Jesús tampoco.
Posiblemente, Ojalá.

Do you know the bodis? The bodhisattvas?

They are numberless. Too many to name.

Jim Bodeen
17 de noviembre, Mérida — 26 November, Yakima



LA PLAYA DEL CARMEN,
THE SNOW OUTSIDE MY WINDOW,
THE SWIMMING NOTEBOOK

On my back in the Caribbean,
weightless, I look to my left and see
what looks like a little boat floating nearby—
and say to myself, That looks like my notebook
bobbing on that wave, my little composition book.

It is my Little Composition Book.
It swam right out of my swim suit pocket.
Lifting it from water I wonder what words
got wet, what happens to ink in salt water.

The Seventh Mayan Prophecy says now we will learn
we are part of the same organism. This will be a galactic spring.
No more moral values that change with the season,
no more poverty. Here the source of fresh water
is an underground doorway to the underworld
through porous limestone. Look down
into the mouth of the well, where you can see our people
fleeing the violence of the North.
                                                          Massaging
the underside of Karen's knees, unknotting tissue
formed over decades of our walk,
hotel oils warmed into her skin show me again
places where we have been together.

Palm leaves that braid my hat came from fingers,
women splitting and braiding leaves in caves
combining heat and humidity, smooth and silky—
the hat able to pass through my wedding ring
when rolled. In this world, victorious athletes
earn the sacrifice of their bodies. Owl
sent to other worlds, lost and beheaded
becomes the moon in a night sky.

Nuestros poemas no cuentan mucho,
pero como vivimos como poetas
cuentan mucho, porque usamos palabras
viviendo como poetas.

Our poems don't matter much,
but how we live as poets
matters a great deal.

We use words as poets.
Not greatly travelled, but travelled greatly,
looking into things.

If you had a chance to walk free would you walk?

All slaves embrace the responsibility to be free
given the opportunity. But the kind of freedom
I choose makes a difference. I am also freed
in my choice—and freedom remains here,
even with those who aren't free.

Cenote Chihuan. Sinkhole.
Dezonot the Mayan word, enigmatic magic,
source of fresh water, underground.
The beach is a beginning point for the world to meet,
for looking into things, digging for broken shells.
Obedezca las señales.
Obey the signs.

Jim Bodeen
15 de noviembre — Mérida, Yucatan /
26 November 2010, Yakima, Washington
Thanksgiving/Día de Gracia