I step carefully, now,
and assemble the clay in my mind.
The Terracotta curves of a water pitcher
rest in a haphazard arc,
hiding among the cactus and desert grass
since the Spaniards rode these Indians one lasts time.
from II. Amoxiumqua
The poet-teacher-historian brings his tri-fold curiosity to his search, as he listens and looks while passing through family stories and archeological time. His trespass is not the one of genocide and environmental destruction brought by the Euro-Americans who have made it possible for him to make this journey. The setting for these poems center around the family cabin in the southwest built by his grandfather and this is acknowledged by the poet. He is aware of his privilege and makes a humble, if appropriate, and awkward, entrance. The waitress returns, / smiles and offers me pie, / takes my twenty without a glance,// so forgotten and disregarded,/ all my offenses, allowed to pass. From here, the narrator walks in as the poet, charmed, carrying charmed medicine. This small book has backbone, cognizant of sins committed. The Zia Sun on the title page, we are told, was handpainted by Jeanne Dillahunt and the poet, in Createx Red Oxide mixed with New Mexico earth. –Jim Bodeen
Handmade / Handsewn Out of Print
250 copies signed and numbered.