Lithic
by
Pot sherds scattered through
the site, spiral petroglyphs
etched on basalt. Burned
rock refuse among the midden.
Too early for post molds, late
for
fluted points place us in Folsom.
The debitage yields a mass of flint
flakes, a few blades. Survey
discovers a rock cairn, leading
to an abrupt cliff several miles
away. ............................
In the pit— dart, spear, arrow tips,
knives, and bones, layers and levels
of bison bone, exposed, twenty
feet deep. When my spirit leaps
from my body, let my material
remains rest among the relics
of the past, and become an integral
part of the plains stratigraphy.
12 comments:
This is excellent. It does take me back in time.
I like the idea of resting among the relics of the past. I also really like your use of the space before Buffalo jump.
Brian - thanks!
crafty green poet - if you got to rest somewhere, might as well provide inspiration to future archaeologists. *g*
It's hard to get Blogger to deal with spaces in poetry. My Buffalo jumped a little too far, but it was better than the alternative.
Loved this. It warns, from the past, that we must have reverence for such relics.
anthonynorth- Hey, I just want them to find my bones in the future and wonder about them. *g* Providing mystery for future generations!
I want my body to be burned and the ashes strewn into the Baltic Sea. It's not fair to the archaeologists, but I just don't want anything of me to remain.
Except maybe my writing. :)
And without grave gifts, burial places have become half as much fun.
Aw, come on Gabriele, don't you want to provide a conundrum for future generations? :)
Really excellent, Constance!
thank you very much Carla, glad you liked it.
A really fine poem! Loved the pics, too.
pepektheassassin- Thanks!
Post a Comment