FM

 

   Every morning we drove into the Res, my little FM radio with the broken antenna would faintly pick up the signal from KXSW.
 

   The nearer we would draw, the stronger became the beating of the drum as deer stood, shoulder to shoulder, lining the road like some pensive gauntlet, the moon in every eye.

   

Agency Village--
    the eagle returns in daylight
     to inspect an old kill

two clocks

 

too early, or late?

two clocks in the village

tic-toc in the haze

little village

 

 

this time every year

a little village springs up --

ice on the St. Croix

 

 

 

 

Agency Village

one by one
deer cross the highway, 
moon in every eye















medicine wheels--
through damp spring fog,
cairns of rough field stone

 frost on the window--
the day watcher's lookout
somewhere in the trees

Agency Village--
the eagle returns in daylight
  to inspect an old kill

hazy morning--
hungry sparrows in and out
an open door

lean times--
crows worrying
road kill

BIA 701--
country-western and native songs
through static on the radio

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