Ta-Lu-Tsi

Someone needs to translate for the roots.

Bring stories

From last year’s burned

Grass.

Negotiate between

This bark

That stick.

At this time of year

The ground

Is warmer than the wind.

Stay low in a

Fold

Of faulted earth.

They may talk about this

Art

As a patience

That no one else can

Understand.

For myself it is

A panicked

Desire to see

Becoming in my

Hands.

You want your ash straight

So the best tree

Will be tight in a group of other trees.

They have to fight each other for light

So they grow straight up.

Taking the one

Will help the others grow.

Often I don’t even

Look

At the whole basket

While I weave.

The pattern is just there

Unfolding for me.

I try to hold

The purpose

The identity of the

Piece

In my heart.

The best day to strip

Hickory

Will be the hottest one of the year,

Sometime in mid-August

In Oklahoma.

You have to sing

Leave a gift for the tree

Then mark the area

You want to take

With your knife

Before pulling it off.

Never strip

A ring around the whole thing

Or you’ll kill it.

If you picked the right day

And the tree likes your song

The bark will come off in one piece.

Sometimes my urgency to

Weave

Is so intense

That I hardly breathe

Until

The last

Crossing

Is made

And the

Basket

Is

Complete.