N  a  p a  l  m     H  e  a  l  t  h     S  p  a  :     R  e  p  o  r  t     2  0  0  9

 

 

PROSPERO SAIZ

 

 

Proem To Southern Athabascan Chant

 

1.  The Singing Rock

 

Spruce Mountain   

wind traveling at dawn

drooping cones slowly swaying

wind-light whisperings:

 

she is so soft

and as she bows she towers

her womb seems empty now

(the canyon empties itself into red torrents)

it can’t be said how she’s used up

and yet  and yet  is fresh and new

forth shines she in her yield

while in the misty valley of the wolf

                                                            far to the north

blind pups yip and nip in simple suckle

the blue kindles emptiness

and in an empty riverbed

her face takes the shape of the open sky

 

it is a natural thing for her

to listen to the silence

and spare the word

 

             *****

 

the drums and flutes are ready

the voice in the ear–silently intones the music:

of the solitary fly buzzing in amber

of the morbid secretions in the whale’s gut

of the bear changing shape

of falling snowflakes without past or future

music suspended over Siberian colors

vanishing terse echoes of ancient chant

wisdom fluttering about........................

 

without form

                            menacing all ideas

                                                             of the beginning and the end...

listen

 

the shoulder bone of the blood-red ox

breaks and crackles in the cold air

while the tortuga shell gathers music elsewhere

midst the cackling of the world

the hollow at the center of the shell

without desire for the deadly ways of man

sounding echoes of the lapping waters

and the poisoned wolves fall to the ground

while we scatter the shame of being human

in the deadly whirl of our immanence

 

the breath of

the tiniest pebble moves the greatest boulder

water penetrates the toughest rock

smoothing it down

nothing is closed   everything seeps

quietly in the coldest waters

oil and ambergris float on the surface

 

             *****

 

cycles of subtle breath

expansion-destruction

destruction-expansion

world-eons

persecutions

scientific expeditions

waters rising

cruise ships gawking in northern waters:

 

strong wind and lashing water

whip the ankles of the white she-bear

she can’t go on forever

(neither can you and yours)

the wind will die and come again

and ankle bones will be themselves           

 

             *****

 

the empty cosmos... in emptiness...

thought-creating breath

 

is the universe in You

and You in it

 

do You enter it

does it enter You

 

Your words create a border

in the wind-soul

 

Pronouns are ice melting in the moment

water turns to questions

without answer

dust comes over the waters

and slowly becomes mud

yielding no reflection

 

the bones of the great  

                                      dust

 

the bones of the poor

                                      dust

 

dust upon the waters

the river brings itself

that’s all

yet there is breath

over and over

again and again

beyond all wisdom

beyond all skill

 

the spider web wafting

in the subtle breath in-formed by the holy wind

 

timeless reality    inseparable

 

all is breathing softly

                                     in the curve of emptiness

                                                                               

             *****

 

the wind in the rock is calling you...

the music that you are

shall vanish when the hot rock vapor once again

raises new beings from the eternal now

 

2.  Leather-Ear-Woman

 

The origin of the origin is now

All is    still    present

Now... energy teems on all paths

Now...  holds all time together

Now... the many directions of time

take unknown ways...

 

My thought destined for scorn

Rests in the hollow of the cosmos

Where an infinite cough echos

Heard by the Leather Ear only

I see with one ear

there where my mind was lost

                                                    in the mastery of the moment

 

             *****

 

Her body could not hold the power of the cough

And she could not pretend to be a priestess

And she did not pretend to be a curing-woman

And she claimed no gifts of prophecy

And she did not call the spirits to dance before the charm

 

Nobody says the spirits danced before her iron circle

 

But she saw the shaman dress his hair in woman-way

With long black braids dangling on either side

Spiraling everywhere at the stroke of ecstasy

His eyes closed tight in his high held head

His girl’s dress of soft foal skin draped round his torso

In the instant of the beating drum and dancing spirits

The snow was melting and the earth was black

And animal spirits were fighting all around her

The bull gored the mongol stallion’s flank

The black bear clawed the shoulder of the elk

And the insatiable dog sniffed her trembling legs

She felt the white teeth of the needy dog gnawing at her heart

She felt her body being torn to pieces and the crow watched

The spirits gamboled in her ear at the infinite speed of chaos

And could not be captured by the two iron circles of the breast

Hammered out by the smith with birds of crooked claws

Birds with tearing beaks over the glow of fire and the hammer’s noise

 

There the mother-animal spirit came upon her and calmed the black call...

 

There others sacrificed animals and sprinkled blood over themselves

Many ate the animal flesh during the consecration and waited

For the lost wisdom of dead shamans to come to this one

And the ancestor spirits leaped on him and strangled out his old life

And he now heard the lost names of ancient guiding spirits

The arctic-sickness left his body and his eyes brightened in the call

And the drumbeat took him to the spirit world and back again

He now sang the spirit of the mountain and sounded the spirit of the sea

He now said the spirit of the sky and heard the rumble of the earth below...

 

She searched for song-words surrounded by the fullness of emptiness

The traces of silence lingered in each solitary word she softly chanted

(A nomadic silence which still pierces the other silence)

And time became a nomad    yet time itself was not tied to movement

Time was itself and nothing else

Time took its time becoming

            

             *****

 

cold ice

cry of the dying crow...

 

arctic hysteria

the spirit gamboling before the light

yakut moving north

gilyak moving south

chanting to the rhythms of the mongol drum

melody trapped in the inner room at night

malady ignored in the outer room in full daylight

 

the face twitching

jerking movement of the owl eating its prey

woman in manly garb

husking dreams without a drum

uttering rapid incantations

 

             *****

 

who can accept the terrible arctic call

the bone knife cutting in the womb

yielding strange brightness in the eyes

intense staring cunning coy

taking on the call to cure the illness

yet her sign remains unknown

she did not fall swiftly from the sky

she did not leap from birch to birch

when very young

a passed down sickness became her best

all came to her without her will

she slept for years

the wolf

the bear

the raven

gull

and eagle

struggled with her in long sleep

she awakened in the middle of the winter night

her temples and her forehead sweating blood

so she was called and answered

and learned to chant and dance

yet could not beat the drum

a quiet wind blew on her eyes and mouth

an old one stabbed himself four times

and she felt the moving of the mountain

the coldness of the churning sea

the endless blueness of the sky

and the movement of the rock

                                                     beneath earth’s crust

and in the eddy of her open thighs

the calling power whirled 

 

             *****

 

There was no power to stop the persecutions:  dress and drum burned

 

Sound fell into a dark muteness...  without the calling need for song 

 

*****

 

I was killed and secretly placed in my tomb of mastodon bone

death did not take me elsewhere and as the sun set

my tomb gathered things there in a quiet union of pure time

 

now eager grave diggers have uncovered me

 

the grasses are dying

machines tear over the tender tundra

birds thrash in agony on the coastlines of oil

 

furious mining

                           gold   tungsten   mercury   coal

 

mad search for oil and gas in the deep waters

flames licking the sky

 

old grandmother fire

your fire   for people only

 

sun peeping

hard frost this morning

warm glow over my empty tomb

where I once rested under arched tusks

 

MASTODON

sacred breast-tooth nipple

under my black hair

the sun kissed my wooden death- mask

oil of whale lights up old bering sea

pain in mammary glands

my leather ear sounds icy waters

where whales sing their sacred songs

and water spirits couple in their path

now far from the path of heaven

 

who would relocate my spirit...

 

 

who rules

sun flames let things go by

 

the other silence rules

it can never long be broken

its force holds us together

 

people seethe round the exhibition

noises of the city surround my bones

I grieve for those around me

on the border of life and death

 

I am out of sight

on the edges of the street

my cries cannot awaken the dead trees

their spirits have moved on

wandering in lovely currents elsewhere

here the seasons have forgotten how to perch

and my shoulders seem terribly empty

midst the traces of wired bodies

where all consent to numbness

the spirits of the winds and snows are gone

my sighs would follow them into oblivion

 

here sadness is beyond expression

my words thrash about in ozone hues

concrete and solid tar

I see ears filled to the brim with crystals

heads bent down followed by nervous dogs

eyes touching millions of fading feet

 

have their spirits gone away?

 

             *****

 

do You see...

 

a   g l o a m is falling

 

over the evening-land’s cruel time

 

where claims of truth destroy all things

and there is no need of song

Your thinning-words have conquered all the world

all things are fading... slowly falling into disappearance

ghostliness haunts Your anxious comforts

 

in the void

dust and light meet

and cannot come to rest

 

only in song does the world meet the spirit

 

the beating drum swells our emptiness

 

anonymous chant

always in exile

yet strangely haunting Your thin ghost-world

song words are nature’s nature

 

teeming energy of fascination

the tongue stuck to the roof of the mouth

singing the footfall without refuge

adrift in the snows without surface or depth

 

I sing not out of a dreamworld

I sing not out of a whirlwind

no creation or invention...

only a breath from elsewhere

 

a nomad song in nomad time

leaving empty camps behind

in the space of my cry

 

my heart murmurs

mere vibration on all paths

the sound never arriving

 

over paths of water

on paths of ice

in paths of snow

upon the darkness of earth

light is endlessly sought

 

does Your science radiate everywhere

do Your equations and forms sparkle and shine

do You want to speak harmony and beauty

as You strive to reveal the nakedness of the cosmos

 

but I sense that after all You say and do

                                                                 all remains strange

while the unbearable naked visage of all things is briefly occupied

by the darkness of Your midnight and the brilliance of Your noonday

 

             *****

 

--why do You hurry so

why do Your bones stride so fast

it is so easy to simply walk

and gently fade into Your track 

 

---there is a mirror

in Your inmost heart

shatter it once beyond all sensing

so You may span the moment

and for once in the untrodden cosmic paths

                                                                       of ice and fire

be simply natural

and bring Yourself with all

cover all reflection

and fall into quietness

where everything is waiting--

 

in the quietness of time

the leather-ear   lightly

                                                  stands still

sits still

                i s  s t i l l

                                    away from the cliches of Your emotions

 

             *****

 

i am no shadow of myself

i am what was left behind

dead to haunt my life

yet death itself is never seen

in the meantime action is becoming

in and out of past and future time

i remain in the other silence now

unheard in the yelling of the day

far from the lyrics of the north

the ear attuned that’s all

 

s c r y    

              s o n g    

                              ...s  i  l  e  n   c  e...

 

elaborate resemblance of a dying time

in the meantime of all paths

the leather-ear at the capture of the interval

 

                  AND

                                     

presence circles the poles over and over

                                                                             again and again without us

all pronouns and names are exhausted

                 You and I

two strange moments in time... 

alien mouths without coincidence

pure passive space

shapeless even in my cry toward You

turning there with open eyes

into the vanishing of a silent name

 

sunspots eyes

hair   solar flares

erupting fire mountains

 

sun-corona exploding

gas and plasma skies

leaving the pull of the sun

swirling solar winds

 

sun storm

 

the light of the north

passing through my womb

stammering bones

 

blue-green northern arcs

patches of mixed light

red and yellow veils

the red aurora burning

spirits dancing in the

                                      northern

                                                         auroral   

                                                                         O V A L

deep exhaustion

calm sleep in the cradle of fading light

 

long time coming:  R E D     R E D

and then whiteness and clouds only

 

             *****                                                                                                 

                                         

did i traveled in star dust

did i talk to Your dreams

did i follow forces unseen

                                            in the trance-world

 

did i leave  my naked body behind in the bitter cold

and walk

 

endless north-ness left

far to the east

yupigyt

chukchi

eveny

koryaki

itel’meny

yukagiry

evenki

oroki

nivkhi

orochi

ul’chi

udegei

negidal

sakha

nanai

 

CHUKOTKA

 

BERING STRAIT

 

mists of wind

clouds and wind rising

Athabascan chant-ways

heading south

 

from high Denali

over and below earth’s crust

everything flows   is flowing

 

knowledge leers in shallow halls

 

the holy herbs slip from the earthen cup

 

fish swim in nothing

 

my flesh followed the shape of things

 

old age brought walrus-head

 

my ear a wind-blown cone on pine

carefully gathered Athabascan sounds

grass here    grass there

 

----Yeniseian

----Na-dene

----Dene

--energy moving to the four sacred mountains

                                                                           of the high plateau--

 

----Ende

----Dine

my northern ear sensed the beauty of the chant-ways

but could not understand...

and the form of my ear dissolved

in the great immensity of the open blue

and nothing happened...  obliteration...

 

my ear--an oracle for fools----the bone-words of illusion?