Let's see, I wanted to read a couple of short poems
from the new manuscript and then a longer piece.
My new manuscript I just finished the summer--
after spending the summer, I'm doing research.
A lot of my writing involves historical research
and I had to buy a French copy of the Jesuit letters
from China as well as the Jesuit relations from North America.
So it's an odd text, it's basically
Jesuit poetry tying together North America and China.
I was in China last summer and was kind of
amazed to see the residue that the Jesuits left
in Shanghai and in Suzhou.
And to see how clearly it connected
with what I remembered back home in the Mohawk mission
church, paintings of Jesuits who were shaking hands
with Kateri Tekakwitha or as people out here
often known as Kateri.
St. Kateri, the only Native American Saint.
So I tried to tie this together and that's
the focus of the longer piece.
But the two short pieces before it.
One is set on the Cattaraugus Seneca reservation
where I often teach.
And then the other one moves me over to China.
"Lacrosse Night-Iroquoia."
"Because the boys are brown or the very least golden,
I come to watch this turn of wrist red and smooth twist
within the webbing a hard truth that
could smash two dark lips red or leave a cold ear stinging.
Passing shirtless but for shoulder pads,
he shakes the sharp black points of his hair spray of sweat
on the back of my hand.
My brother 10 years younger and infinitely kinder
touches my arm with four words that players mean.
He's playing the game.
I don't look at my brother when I
answer because tonight I've seen an angry muscle, a familiar
tremor.
And when we leave the arena crossing Cattaraugus Creek
there are fires beneath the bridge, jack lights attracting
mean designs to hang themselves neatly
on a row of shining hooks."