Quivira

Q
I

Also reputed to be golden, Quivira:


Cibola, unknown
to Coronado, meant ‘buffalo’

to the Indians, but onward, to El Dorado, ‘The Gilded One’,


a country where
boats were incrusted with gold, where
golden bells hung from trees


(tho the food there,

said to be served on gold,



was buffalo).


‘We took the hump from both sides of the hump ribs, of all the carcasses. In taking out the hump we inserted the knife at the coupling of the loin, cutting forward down the lower side, as far forward as the perpendicular ribs ran; then, starting at the loin again, would cut down the upper side, thus taking out a strip from a full-grown animal about three feet long. Near the front of the hump ribs it would be ten or twelve inches wide & four or five inches thick. When first taken out it was hung up for a couple of days with the big end down. It became shrunken, tender & brittle, with no taint. The front end had a streak of lean alternating with fat & when fried in tallow, made a feast for the gods’.



The prairie soil was ‘black & fat’ &,

according to Castaneda, the marrow of the land.

On that soil, later to be stripped
for prairie sod-houses,

wild turkeys
flocked among the persimmons

their flesh succulent from golden sand plums,
bitter

with china-berries.
The coyotes,

their eyes aglow on the dark horizon, barked at a moon
above the lowing

of buffalo, heard twenty miles
away.

And cottonwood trees, from whose buds
the Indians

made clear yellow, scattered their drift in spring
filling the gullies.



The Quivirans
were to tell Coranado

‘the things
where you are now

are of great importance’.




II

As Coronado turned to retrace his steps,
the Smoky Hills were visible north across a stream
enveloped in an atmospheric haze
in which the hills
became distant, impossible mountains—

‘where you are now’

the Indians had said, ‘of great

importance’.


The country they traveled over
was so level,
if one looked at the buffalo

the sky could be seen between their legs,

so that at a distance they appeared
to be smooth-trunked pines whose tops jointed—

& if there was
one bull, it seemed four
pines.

The country was round, as if
a man should imagine himself in a bowl, & could see sky
at its edge

an arrow’s shot away.

And if any man
were to lie down on his back, he lost

sight
of the ground.


Did Coronado see also in that late summer storm,
before he turned south,
an horizon of dark funnels tapering
toward the earth, coming with the thunderous sound of a buffalo herd
out of the plains—a calm & sulphurous air
in which clouds were drawn like lightning toward the funnels—
scattering his men
to hide among grassy hollows?


A tornado against the sky
like buffalo

who were beared as
goats,

with the hump of a camel, the mane
of a lion

& who carried
their tails erect as they ran,

like any European
scorpion.

O Coronado, all country
is round to

those who lose sight of the
ground.

Canceas, Cansez, Kansies, Konza: the Indian word

meaning smoky,

from an atmospheric condition

in the fall of the year, called

Indian Summer:

smoke in the air,

in Quivira.

61
Rating:

Comment form:

*Max text - 500. Manual moderation.

Similar Poems:

The Fête by Charlotte Mew
Charlotte Mew
To-night again the moon’s white mat
Stretches across the dormitory floor
While outside, like an evil cat
The pion prowls down the dark corridor,
Planning, I know, to pounce on me, in spite
For getting leave to sleep in town last night.
But it was none of us who made that noise,
Only the old brown owl that hoots and flies
Read Poem
0
88
Rating:

Kumina by Kamau Brathwaite
Kamau Brathwaite
for DreamChad on the death of her sun Mark - mark this word mark this place + tyme - at Papine Kingston Jamaica - age 29
midnight 28/29 April 2001-1002-0210-0120-0020-0000
rev 29 feb 04

Read Poem
0
69
Rating:

Arguing with Something Plato Said by Jack Collom
Jack Collom
(for Phil Garrison and Peter Lamborn Wilson)
As ashes are the shadow of smoke,
Read Poem
0
57
Rating:

Bald Eagle Count by Jack Collom
Jack Collom
(for the Barteks)
up at 7, dress & cook an egg
Read Poem
0
72
Rating:

Kaddish by Allen Ginsberg
Allen Ginsberg
For Naomi Ginsberg, 1894—1956 I
Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
Read Poem
0
71
Rating:

Summer by Ronald Johnson
Ronald Johnson
As the morning advanced the sun became bright and warm, cloudless, calm, serene. About nine an appearance very unusual began to demand our attention—a shower of cobwebs falling from very elevated regions, & continuing, without any interruption, till the close of the day . . . There is a natural occurrence to be met with upon the highest part of our down in hot summer days, and that is a loud audible humming of bees in the air, though not one insect is to be seen . . . In a district so diversified as this, so full of hollow vales and hanging woods, it is no wonder that echoes should abound. Many we have discovered that return a tunable ring of bells, or the melody of birds; but we were still at a loss for a polysyllabical, articulate echo, till a young gentleman, who had parted from his company in a summer walk, and was calling after them, stumbled upon a very curious one in a spot where it might least be expected . . . We procured a cuckoo, and cutting open the breastbone and exposing the intestines to sight, found the crop lying as mentioned above. This stomach was large and round, and stuffed hard, like a pincushion, with food, which upon nice examination, we found to consist of various insects, such as small scarabs, spiders, and dragon-flies; the last of which, as they were just emerging out of the aurelia state, we have seen cuckoos catching on the wing. Among this farrago also were to be seen maggots, and many seeds, which belonged either to gooseberries, currants, cranberries, or some such fruit . . .
Read Poem
0
71
Rating:

Itinerary by James McMichael
James McMichael
The farmhouses north of Driggs,
silos for miles along the road saying
BUTLER or SIOUX. The light saying
rain coming on, the wind not up yet,
animals waiting as the front hits
everything on the high fiats, hailstones
bouncing like rabbits under the sage.
Nothing running off. Creeks clear.
Read Poem
0
63
Rating:

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (text of 1834) by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Argument

How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to his own Country. PART I
It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Read Poem
0
85
Rating:

The Triumph of Life by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth
Rejoicing in his splendour, & the mask
Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth.
The smokeless altars of the mountain snows
Flamed above crimson clouds, & at the birth
Of light, the Ocean's orison arose
To which the birds tempered their matin lay,
Read Poem
0
62
Rating: