Philip Preston | + Follow Poet |
Free verse | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print |

The Woods of Four dimensions

Washed ashore on the lost island

Skin already peeling on the beach

Burning from the hot green summer sun

Meat melting off to become bone

Jumping back into the water

Cooling off with the clams and fish 

Washing the sand off from your leg bones

Discarding you clothes

Who needs them?

A skeletons not so bad

You still have your Olmiut 

And you can still move 

Walking to the pine forests 

Making camp in a clearing 

Making a fire

Flames full of burning skulls and snail shell mountains

As night peacefully approaches 

From the dry leaves

Found all throughout the woods

You make a joint

Lighting it on the burning wood

In the sky

Purple waves of Saturns rings

Yellow flashes of Venus

Blue paint stokes of Neptune 

Jupiter’s electric storms

As mushrooms grow on your spine 

You cook some

Then keep moving

Here, is too dangerous

Big cats must be behind every tree

Ready to pounce

Take a torch in your hand

Give yourself a bone tattoo for luck

Carved with a charcoal knife

And stick two burning coals in your eye sockets

Better to see with 

Into a forgotten cave

Perfect to watch the sunrise

Lying there in perfect silence

As the mint green moss blankets your body

Carving a pipe with a stone blade

From the wood of a branch

Better to smoke more leaf

Wake up the next morning

Out and about

Smiling sun, no longer angry

Dancing with her moon brother 

The sky still purple

The clouds everywhere and dark

Flowers sing as you take every step

No more big cats

Only bugs and spirits

Spirits inside the trees 

Or waiting on the high tree tops

Their hair ragged and wet

Give them dry grass for their beds

And dried leaf to smoke

Pass it to their hands with gnarled fingers

And many callouses

One spirits gifts you half a tree

Cut down neatly 

With a deer bone chisel 

And a oak wooden mallet

Carve your human self into the tree

Every detail 

The nose

The ears

The expensive clothes

The pretty rings now melted on the beach

All the lovely hair and clear skin

Take it and throw it off the beach cliff

Watch it smash on the salt rocks

Eaten whole by wood crabs

The bird of thunder comes

With ravens by his tail

A respectful bow down at his presence

The Frog and The Loon crest

Their most elaborate design

Burned onto your forehead

With the two holy bones of time 

And the symbol of world and spirit 

The clouds clear 

The sun shines upon a distant island 

Full of enormous pine trees

Ten thousand steps away 

With this

Jump from the cliff

Glide into the water 

Sink at first into the kelp

But with a quick untangling

Off you go to the big pine island 

Staring at reflections in the water

Of yourself and other animals 

If you dive down too deep the sharks will find you

The deep sea creatures will get you

Octopus or sharp toothed fish 

Or a bone whale with crushing jaws

So dive down just a little bit

To find the underwater masks 

Masks like those in museums 

Masks like you made long ago

Around a raging, snowy bonfire

Smoke like burnt meat

Drinking blueberry foam in a can

Swim down into the mouths of the masks

The massive stone masks 

Their eyes locked

Their wrinkles deep

The water cracking with rocks 

Humming with songs of whales and dolphins

Finally at the island

Caught in the rapids

Saved by the river spirit

He picks you by your shoulder bone

And drags you up on his raft of sticks

He wears a hat of dried sea weed

His face is like a killer whale

With red face paint under the eyes

He wears a patched black cloak 

And steers his boat with a thin oar

Past the roaring currents 

Over the waterfalls

Smashing against the water rocks

Fighting off the water rats the size of dinner plates

Into the village of the tall men

With trees a thousand feet high

Houses scraping the clouds

The people thirty feet tall

Their skin made of stone

Stone like brick but shiny and bright

Clothes beautiful

Made of many seals and deer

Painted with untold berries 

Their hands like an artists drawing

Free of any slime or gray goo

On every meat rack

Hunted whales and wild dogs rest

Steal a bit of food

A few of their paintings 

A couple jugs of wine

Avoid them, the river spirit told you

They’ve never been friendly, he said

Their books you steal but you can’t even read

Take them back to your new shelter

By a creek in the swamps

Full of reeds and rich mud and sand 

Plenty of fish and bones to carve

Singing to the nearby frogs

Carving necklace from skeletons horn

But you can’t stay long

The salamander with a pick axe head will be coming soon

So back to the lost island you go

Make yourself a thin boat with a clean white sheet 

And sail with the yellow sky

Copyright © Philip Preston | Year Posted 2025

Please Login to post a comment