THE MOON TONIGHT

 

THE MOON TONIGHT

           --The mind is trying to discover and to find its place within the land,

             to discover a way to dispel its own sense of estrangement.

                      --Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams

          --Something else that is the case, one species--

            the one that uses fire—is remarkably

            like fire: insatiable…”

                    --Robert Bringhurst, The Ridge

When Horizon fully opens,

the mind born out of itself,

calls for cosmic prayers

from story tellers in animal voices

from uncounted spirit forces

telling how in burn and breath

it was for them, I’d like to know,

the place in book or landscape--

and what it was and why,

and I’d like them, plant or animal,

to tell what happened in the reading,

in the living, in the rooting of horizon

and the reading and living outside

of the book and the soil. I’d like them

to tell, too, of their preparations

for the receiving of Barry Lopez’ work.

What prepared the way for this opening,

this epiphany, or blossoming.

What led up to the breaking open,

in other words than words.

                                What stone witnessed?

This Barry Lopez singing.

This Blessingway. For there were several

light landings, places where the gods

might have set down had they been in the area.

And of many other things, several

readings of the horizon,

multiple ways of experience

separating circles of the line.

His boundary, his limit has been

delineated many times

before becoming life-work.

This singing and this falling.

The wonders of this sewing.

The weavings in the fabric. And now,

each new place within any

observer’s position or range

of perception. His, a place

preparing one for what’s next,

while waiting. Mine is the hand

of one writing with a notebook

held on the steering wheel 

while driving in the dark,

one passing through, who overheard

a man talking about a stand of trees.

Slowing the work, following river’s

demand of slowing the water. This.

Life and work intersecting

land and sky completely apprenticed.

Open to where conversation is surprise.

The listening. The notebook.

The Blessingway in notebooks.

When the moon is near the horizon

the scattering of blues, greens and purples.

Light with a longer distance to travel.

It hasn’t been said yet. This trail work.

Jim Bodeen

31 October 2023–26 November 2023

Sisters, Oregon, Finn Rock/McKenzie River, Oregon,

Yakima, Washington