Still faces on the wall: that look
the early camera gave-hold still for time.
We walk down the corridor, looking history
back and forth: spearheads in one room,
bombs and pictures of our Navy blimp
in another, one hundred years between.
Joe Champion: first white settler,
hater of statistics, non-average.
(Indian Adams gave relics for the story.)
Joe carved this thing to eat with a spoon,
sort of; he made this cradle for a baby
and this other kind of cradle, for grain.
Here is the hollow tree Joe inhabited
his house, at first, before he taught
and prospered and died.
(Sold soo acres for $400got rich that way.)
Where’s his grave?
This dugout–canoe or coffin–came down the flood
in 1949, buried six feet deep in the Nehalem Spit.
There’s “The Morning Star”, all sails spread,
near the twins, age 84.
One of them-older looking-saw something
above the camera: the eyes go back. …
Upstairs other creatures from the wild
have gathered-cold, natural scenes: an owl of snow,
a wolf with clear eyes looking down over the blown
birds’ eggs, through the floor
past The Morning Star
into Joe’s hollow tree.
Leave a Reply