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.