WEBVTT

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These kinds of things that
I deal with in my stories

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are the kinds of things that
the people at home enjoy a lot.

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And there's just a whole
different attitude.

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I don't know.

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Anyway, and I just
can't help it.

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I just have to--

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I just enjoy it too much
myself to stay away from it.

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Sort of X-rated, I
guess you might say.

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OK.

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This is what I call more
like of a poem rather

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than a storytelling thing.

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This one's called,
"Prayer to the Pacific."

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"I travel to the ocean,
distant from my southwest

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land of sandrock, to
the moving blue water,

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big as the myth of origin.

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Pale, pale water in the
yellow, white light of sun,

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floating west to China,
where ocean herself was born.

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Clouds that blow across
the sand are wet.

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Squat in the wet sand
and speak to ocean,

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I return to you, turquoise,
the red coral you sent us,

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sister spirit of Earth.

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Four round stones in
my pocket, I carry back

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the ocean to suck and to taste.

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30,000 years ago, Indians
came riding across the ocean,

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carried by giant sea turtles.

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Waves were high that day.

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Great sea turtles waded slowly
out from the gray sundown sea.

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Grandfather Turtle rolled
in the sand four times

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and disappeared,
swimming into the sun.

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And so, from that
time immemorial,

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as the old people say, rain
clouds drift from the west,

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gift from the ocean.

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Green leaves in the wind,
wet earth on my feet,

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swallowing raindrops
clear from China.

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