PULLED OVER AT MANZANAR

STOPPING AT MANZANAR

I.

Folded paper cranes, Origami,

at the front entrance, and before that

the road sign, Blue Star Highway,

and one more, Manzanar,

dropping down from the Sierras,

Sierra Nevada's. Covered in snow,

snow-covered. Beauty of cover,

nieve. Sierra, first the name--

jagged mountain chain, code word

representing the letter S,

used in radio communication,

más profundo: teeth of a saw

in Spanish. Dark feminine

of ciaran. On the street,

Sierra's the type of girl

who brings out the best

in you--the best thing

that ever happened.

II.

Dropping down

from the Sierra Nevada's

to Manzanar. And me?

What just got hit?

My connections?

My grand daughter

folds Origami cranes.

I was born 9 August 1945.

That day. Between the times,

that time. I belong here,

Manzanar. I taught

that book, Farewell to Manzanar

with my friend and colleague

in a course we called

Braided Lives on Turtle Island.

Shigataganai, we taught our students

to say. Shigataganai. Automatically,

It can't be helped. My daughters

went to Yamate High School

in Yokohama, and lived with the girls

who came here to live in our home,

exchanging intimate slang,

remaining friends. I was born

9 August 1945. While serving

in the Evacuation Hospital

in Vietnam in 1968, I skied

in Zao, nearby where Basho

slept on his journey

to the far north--Basho

neither priest nor ordinary

man, writing poems.

My granddaughter folds paper cranes.

Lonnie Kaneko, poet and friend

(who died two years ago) wrote

Coming Home from Camp.

Kaneko and his parents

were sent to Minidoka, Idaho.

Innocent yet pronounced guilty,

he is invisible. Kaneko, too,

writes in his mother's voice.

Kara Kondo, from Wapato,

in Yakima Valley where

we live, was interred at

Heart Mountain, Wyoming,

worked four decades at

Women's League of Voters,

dying at 89 in 2005. My friend

Louis Fiset, philatelist and printer,

wrote Imprisoned Apart:

World War II Correspondence

of an Issei couple, and Camp Harmony:

Seattle's Japanese Americans

and the Puyallup Assembly Center.

He is also caretaker of cancelled

envelopes carrying censored mail.

My granddaughter folds paper

into cranes. I was born 9 August 1945.

On the way into the Sierra Nevadas

to visit our son, we stopped at

Tule Lake Segregation Center.

Look that one up on your own.

Bonsai became known in America

when GIs returned from WWII

bringing Trees in a Pot, along

with Zen and Buddhism. An apprentice

to the trees myself, what fires

my imagination are Scholar's Rocks,

or Suiseki stones. Suiseki being

Japanese Art of Miniature Landscape

stones. Louis Fiset first told me

this practice was widespread at

Fort Missoula Detention Camp,

as Japanese hand-polished stones

rubbing them with Army issue

blankets. That's probably enough,

eh. Don't rub it in. No, No, Yes, Yes.

Clouds that day, crazy wild,

like the monk, Ikkyu. We

stopped at Manzanar. Spent

ourselves. I found the rock garden

walking out alone. I video-taped

three tumbleweeds circling

the basketball on the outdoor

court. Two balls waiting

for a game. White painted

rocks marking boundary lines.

Jim Bodeen

10 March 2018--14 March 2019

Manzanar National Historical Site/Gila Bend, Az