old dri’s lament

dri (Tibetan): a female yak

also by gail sher

ProseWriting the Fire: Yoga and the Art of Making

Your Words Come Alive • 2006

The Intuitive Writer: Listening to Your Own Voice • 2002

One Continuous Mistake: Four Noble Truths for Writers • 1999

From a Baker’s Kitchen • 1984/2004

PoetryThe Coper Pheasant Ceases Its Call • 2007

East Wind Melts the Ice • 2007

Watching Slow Flowers • 2006 DOHA

- • 2005

RAGA • 2004

Once There Was Grass • 2004

redwind daylong daylong • 2004

Birds of Celtic Twilight: A Novel in Verse • 2004

Look at That Dog All Dressed Out in Plum Blossoms • 2002

Moon of the Swaying Buds • 2002

Lines: The Life of a Laysan Albatross • 2000Fifty Jigsawed Bones • 1999

Saffron Wings • 1998

One bug . . . one mouth . . . snap! • 1997

Marginalia • 1997

La • 1997

Like a Crane at Night • 1996

Kuklos • 1995

Cops • 1988

Broke Aide • 1985

Rouge to Beak Having Me • 1983

(As) on things which (headpiece) touches the Moslem • 1982

From Another Point of View the Woman Seems to be Resting • 1981

old dri’s lament

Gail Sher

Qn i g h t c r a n e p r e s s

2 0 0 7

Copyright 2007, Gail Sher

All rights reserved.

Night Crane Press1500 Park Avenue, Suite 435

Emeryville, California 94608

No part of this publication my be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical,

including photocopy, recording, or any information storage

and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the

copyright owner and the publisher.

isbn: 978–0–9794721–0–7

For Brendan

To Jaime de Angulo

One of the most outstanding writers I have ever encountered

w illiam carlos w illiams

contents

month of the groundhog 1

month of the squirrel 21

month of the wild turnips 45

month of the deer running 87

month of the groundhog

�

old dri’s lament

without a head I amI am the throat

without a song I amI am the song

I am the song without a headI live between two mountains

4

you croak young frogas I dig for eatable rootsyou croak young frogas I dig up hairy rotten ones

cage of ribscarcass ablazesky full of frogsI suck your bones

�

hawk o hawk questing the remuda

on a swaythe bird will giveI am a bird

you neigh you shrilltoss your headI am the mare you smell

in the fogin the pastureI am your bowed neck

when the north windrushes over the moorI am your mane flying

6

I a pigeon strut along the wharf

by pails of fresh fish I strolllooking like an old babushka at market

through stalls I wend as evening glowswaltz as the band warms to its ragtime

a very large man hands me a cup of milk

�

parrot whom I hate

red sun birdI saw you gazeat noon’s fierce fire

red sun birdit is mineyou take from itand I suffer

eagles, vultureseat out your heartslike the Buddhas tigers tore with their teeth

o bird of peregrine hips

8

I am a facebeneath the hillsI dig for rootsthrow them in my pack

a face I amall wrinkles and bentpropped with a stick

I come out o’ the hillspass a bit of townbuy some grubfrom a half-wit

o child of stone axebefore-the-white-man boy

�

I am a beadI am a headbutton of glasson string

in a roware my sistersloud and colorful

rise up girlsmake a teepeemake a pouchstare at the sunstreaming in the doorand toward the hillsout in the distance

10

hey, the man

broad, squat anddark, very dark

a big man

clear sky bluebig sky and big clear street

sagebrushjackrabbitsjuniper gnarled, rough

but the valley spreads widehey mountain, are you there

11

so I walk into townhigh desertblue sky juniper wood smoking

I see Indians (Paiutes)standing along the streethey I saybut they . . . nothing

it’s clear and coolalmost fallreally beautiful weatherso I feel good

12

shotgun rabbitI am andthere’s another onehey, grab your gun

the sagebrush is tallI am a tall birdhunting rabbitwith my pea-cock

I make circles in the dirtattack sharply

rabbit fat is warmingrabbit skin is warmingrabbit flesh is warming

1�

stupa of mind’s darkness

I am a fielda fast-flowing riverback and forth I walkwhere two paths spread

I choose the right onebut a huge man blocks mego away huge man

glimmering in the distanceare butter lampsare giant peopleone, two, three heads

I eat sunI lay in grassa lizard scurries in the heat

14

lexicon of stallionswith the gift of footwe stole you back

a trident through my heelemerges through my head

the wordin my wristrears from the pyre

my memory of thatone spring

1�

giving & taking

my greed is an owlI chase it awaywith my breath it carries happiness

the problems of otherslands on my selfishnesswhich sinks to the earthI am pliable and soft

16

rain on the redwoodsdrip drip dripblue jays’ caw-for-the-morning subduedwood-rats vanishsquirrels stay in their holesdrip drip drip

1�

winter rain and the trees just stand thereand the grassshivering at the windowaren’t you cold trees?crows, aren’t you freezing?

18

poker stillstartled (you seem)on the pathby the baby maple

skin softcrevices shallowin a swirl of airbelly pumping fast

till my slow breathfuses with your heart

1�

nip nip from my loins

a hornets’ nesta great big hornets’ nestall the hornets streaming in and out

I watchpretty soon I throw rockscome out hornetsfly after me, bite me

20

sky burial

o wall of skullsvast wall of skullswash this bodyshave its headseat it shrouded in white cloth

month of the squirrel

2�

nagaland

under blue airI fell into the river

under blue airI heard the winter crane

when the p’hurba seared her handI pulled it from the boulder

then Buddha became a mountain

24

licking jiaka in the dawn, licking jiaka in the dawn, on a warm spring day of blooming flowers

in a mountain by the seaa rivulet runsa baby frog croaks

then freezes(I am not near)in sun its green skin jumps

curious, I approachstill still, primordially quiet

I wake, immediately clearabout something

2�

caves of increasing goodness

when it rainsa beautiful fringe of water drips across my roofwhen it rainsstones shiftcrushing monks to death

o dragon from the seajudge not my murdererfor the jonquils are outswallow him with the sky

26

o woman bird you wag your tail

treading the cementthe gray birdfrantic

in the heat of day(stunned)young thing

a gull drops . . . lifts . . .(something is in its beak)

2�

red flags red flags fluttering red flags

of the thirteen holy mountainsat the Yellow River’s sourceAnyemaqen, the godwatches over the Hundred Lakes

moon gates, decorated eaves,little bridges over flowing watertemples on hills overlooking the wateroverlooking the Yangtze-delta’s greens

28

on your departure

five tea-boiled eggstwo pieces of sesame cakepumpkin seedssweet-sour turnip sliversa flask of teainside a shoulder bag of Suzhou silk

2�

still-good butter no longer fresh but inexpensive and not dirty

old ma-pa, you made our family richold ma-pa, we don’t care what you did before

you came

the lama kindly sent youto my maternal grandmother

because you are smartour family has prosperedand made a name for itself in our locality

old ma-pa, you made our family richold ma-pa, we don’t care what you did before

you came

30

dead grass on the hillyellow hillfloppy with faded grasses

I look out and see youall slumped over

dead grass on the hillonce green in the raintall and thick with dandelions and flowersresilienteven lyrical

where is your songwhat happened to your medoly

�1

“give me that hoe”said the boy to his sisterwho only cared about her rabbit

since he didn’tshe pretended not to hear

“I have long ears” she sangin the squeaky voice of an animal

“pass me the hoe!how many times do I have to ask”

32

wind-washed on the high plateau

mountain snowdeeper than a tall manmountain snowI cannot walk

inside I walkmake quick headway to the villageswallow steamy noodles flecked with meat

mutant meme less-than-halfo snowcan’t you see I’m desperate

��

turnsol of the badlands

black of dawnqueen queen of the black essencewhisper to me

I wander at nightthrough the holy-mesa’s thorns

there a demonessspirit untamed . . .an old man beginsspeaking of a strange experience

piles of corpseshandsome, fragrant, sleekfill me, dancingat the bottom of tall mountains

34

a boulder fell from the skya boulder fell from the skyno one around . . . nothing up the cliffdon’t go near the cliff, warned a woodcutterfor a leopard, having birthed a litter,Is keeping them there

I walk near the cliffI run near the cliffthe leopard with her kittensthe leopard with her kittensjust as the woodsman had said

��

I saw a manI saw a manbehind the village, along the streamthat ran through a dense patch of trees

I saw a manthin as a sticksketched out of charcoal

I saw a manthin as a stickwith a huge stomach,a cow’s stomach

I called to my friendto come see the manbut there was no man

36

I toss you my wifeo lappet-faced bird

o whitebird whitebird, white stork with red legs

when in the mountainsnow is deepto the valley you comewith your white-white wings

eat-upeat-up fast

��

the canyadas turn black

I am a head rolling in the grasslaughing at my brother sun(who thinks he is the sun)

I am a foot running by the seasquinting at a gull(who has caught its mirror reflection)

I am a stomach wounded by a spearcrying for the whale(snorting just below the surface)

the moon is redI am whittling somethingleaning against a treesmelling death up close

38

I, Phug-shag, warrior god of Tema-mo’s retinue,am pleased that you are using my mountain for study

above green fields of janma treesdead leaves blownorth wind sweeps

about green fields of janma treesdead leaves blownorth wind sweepsa million sickle leaves

��

at my crazy behest

and he fires the valleywith a great roar and loud (loud) explosionsand the valley, clogged with smoke, allows nothing but hiding my eyes

suddenly it diesthough the god is offended(he does not like anyone cutting green branchesand is even offended if locals cut dry wood)

crows cawed, crows barkedloudly (loudly) all day long,say friends say friends from far awayto appease the godwe made a black tea offering

next morning at Tsirab’s templeI say I am sorry, ask forgiveness, andmake a black tea offering

Tsirab is not angryin fact he is quite pleasedTsirab is definitely on your sidehe is not upset at all

40

fogand that deep-throated hornbellowing from your folds

from the ocean floorwhere sea-cows moan

sour earthstagnant like a womansloppy and wet

you are druggedon brittle haunches you squatno elasticity left

41

O Goddess Protectress Who Holds the White UmbrellaPlease Accept this Tea and Smoke from Branches of

Evergreen

follow me, follow me, saida naked black womanriding saddleless on a big black mule

that was Palden Lhamothe Glorious Goddess, the protectress of Drepungit means you will be entering Drepung said Aku-mewho himself had learned the dharma there

a tall, handsome manin a white Tibetan chubapointed out a pathgo in that direction he said

that was Nechung, the protector of Drepunghe was pointing to the southwhere Lhasa rises from Choo-chur

42

floppy hooves among the savin

in an iron fence with iron thornsencaged said the seer

trapped inside the hollow of astone-animal’s horn

I see a strong black manwith many eyes on his armsentering the fence bringing something out

4�

I saw him in the dew, through a crack in the dawn

sit down for a whilesaid one with long intestinesnobody could rush him

he saw, he says,and you can see it in his eye,Tanpai Gyaltsan giveDawa Drolma the reliquary

when you come to dietake my mindI have breathed from itall suffering

I skip byon my way placesno one knows of our love

44

caves of increasing goodness

when it rainsa beautiful fringe of water drips across my roofwhen it rainsstones shiftcrushing monks to death

o dragon from the seajudge not my murdererfor the jonquils are outswallow him with the sky

month of the wild turnips

4�

little flyin your buzz, stillness ringsI love stillnessin my still homelittle fly

48

for a second you were nervous(I saw it in your wings)you landed on my napkinturned clockwise

but after turning clockwiseyou walked around for a while

sky of fall o sky of fallleaves wind-brushed, debris everywherehere, taste a bit of the summerI live on

4�

fly of snowblack fly, big flyyour time is passedno one can help you

50

go back to your hole gopherdo not destroy what the ants have builtyour hill is uselessno one will bother you

�1

o fox, your breathno purr nosilent bravado

52

in grassy fogthe old mare standsskinny tail limp

��

pork and grainpork and grainopen their mouthspush it inpush it in hard

54

of nilotic waisto tigress of the eastfigment of the rapids’ nestling backwater

��

looking toward the hills

hummingbird hummingbird treading spring airyour red flower will diein its wake, hard dry eartho hummingbird what will you do

56

flickering wingseach forms a Va gathering circling of flickering V’sflip flop flip

��

a bank of birdsflocks of blacko black wall of winterhowling wind of winter

58

gulls ride sandstrut like kingsbeyond the purple crocus

��

tonight the owlthrough rain I hear your purrlow-slung, ancient

60

having circled the flamesof the vidyadhara’s pyreold crow, what is in your heartas you rest at the plain’s bottom

61

above the waterneither burning nor drying the waterone red hawkcloses its eyesas it sinks belowthe water’s sound

62

o buzzard in the skyinvoked the girlriding pillion

6�

cold grass in the storm

tall bladesflogged by the storm

64

ever openyour jaw swings lowo orchid-on-a-stemwhere is your throat

6�

pot of pebbleszinnias and pebblesburning in the sundissolving into light

66

damsel treefor a secondthe junco . . .

6�

elephant maninvisibleenormous in your skull

68

I breakI break in sheer canyon

coyotes yapping (howling)

6�

in hindsight a giantskin irreconcilable

hair-split skyI rub up to the shadow

70

thin girlin a shawl kneelingholding a match to the wood

�1

horseback opera

no talking, no singingjust patterns madeas lamas ride

72

I am a headwhen my mother gave birthmy eyes like dziaroused her eyrewhich she devoured

��

this mother is not safeshe thinks only of herselfshe will eat youin the night she will ravage you

74

moulting his format wood’s edge buried in leavesam Iam my mothermother, please don’t flee

��

gentle arabamong your beanshair dyed pink

76

in three years I’ll be dead, he said

purple air dressed the treesthe night being snowless

��

live wellwe also will live

through the brushthe blind old manpoking at things with his stick

78

wild o too wildfrom the juice of himfrom the sudden swing of his caracole

��

old leopard-beggar, go awaythe bounty money you want(though your pelt was stolen)go away old leopard-beggar

80

sea-shell clanamong the ghostswith your gritpaint the wall white

81

I thought I was myselfbut I am only a throatplease come in I sigh

82

old lady & bird

is a canary that?no, it is her heartawake

8�

galactic world sharp as a crucifix

blue-black treewet from nightthe stars hold stilland I, too, listen intently

84

fog lurkstree tips through billows of graya young breathparched but opensits inside your glory pool

8�

let water be a sob

sea-shells singsea-shells sing my tearsat the lonely shoreat the vast grinning ocean

86

hot day in winterwinter which is latewinter, why are you late

month of the deer running

8�

o Raven, my poison, ComEBull-snake, my poison, ComECrablouse, my poison, ComE

Jim Lizard, he sit on a rock all daypretty clever but not seriousa damn liar

90

luck

a man needs(must find)or he’ll just be common

maybe a wolfmaybe a bird

�1

HA! yells the guessershe’d laugh, shows the bones,throws them in the airsways side to side

where’s so-’n-so

parked over there by that juniper

I get upspit

behind the flamethe camp is quieta few babies cry

92

why, you ask whywell, I go to woods(I’m a young girl)look for berriesbut my poison find mehe scare me

I don’t look for himHE FIND ME!

��

tin lizzie is fixedbut we stayin the sagebrushspitting brown juicefrom one of the car’s foot-boards

nowhere is treesemaculate greenand lush (full of leaves)

everyone knowseveryone sees itlike his own skin

no roadjust busha clump, a ditchsix eight tin lizziesclunckity-clunkrattling through

a campfire startsthen anothershe’s weaving a basket of willow twigs

you bring firewoodI cook, all right

94

within words its quantity long short

the fire soarswe’re lying aroundcome on, SINGthe poisons don’t hear

a woman saysyou did pretty goodyou helpthat’s good

a man sayshe ask Ravenis he going to dieRaven says I don’t knowask the others

sick manin a funklistensin his belly

��

upper land I amit is dark andmy wolf-bitch sways

it’s dusk (I hear some shots)

my poison don’t hearmountain lion, wolf,too far away, don’t hear

96

how you steal a dog

I dunno

how you steal a poison(some shamans do)

sure I do!they steal mine tooif they can

��

I’m pretty sickmaybe I dieI doctor myselfyou stayhelp sing

maybe I dieI dunnomy shadow’s on the roadcan’t find me no more

ohh . . . it hurtinside right here

everybody dieI ask my poison tonight

sometime my poison very far away, not hearmany sing, he hear better

98

I catch a new damaagomehe’s wildI’m training himfollows me like a dog

here you comeyellin’ your head offdamn ityou scare him away

the sick woman’son the groundunder a blanketon a bed of tules

I singI suckput my lips to her bodyand pull HARD

pass me that lard can

next daythe sick womanshe toss me some beadsit’s not much she says

it’s okayI throw them to my niini

��

jackrabbits hares hundreds HUNDREDS pop pop pop

so he goes into the bushhas a lousefor one of his poisonsgets his louse to call hers

pretty soon a womangets up from her campfire(she doesn’t know why)wanders toward the bush

right where the old man waits

100

I sing into the hornmy voice in the horn

ha! my father is calling meI’d better go find him

my damaagomehe look for the horn

101

it’s nightwe’re stumbling downa steep traildarn steep country

I am slow gossip

slow but erectdark-chocolate skina few long white whiskers

102

them people you don’t seecoyotes, fox, dinihowis, damaagomesthey don’t know methey might hurt meI’m say’n lookI’m a friendI’m feedin’ youI don’t mean you no harm

it’s duskhe chewsspits in the four directions

10�

about the mortar near my hearth

you shouldn’t do thathe’s getting’ too hottoo near the firemake him madbring bad luckmake you sickmake your children sick

old dri’s lamentwas set in minion, a typeface designed by Robert Slimbach

and first issued in digital form by Adobe Systems,

mountain View, California, in 1989.

Typesetting & production: Claudia Smelser.

Printing & binding: Lightning Source, Inc.