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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
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