(Interior: tipi. TRACKER, who has left after his last business to position himself, sits meditating under a violet beam, center stage. The rest is dimly lit. He wears a silk white ceremonial outfit. The beam begins to fade. GRANDMOTHER emerges from shadowy right, and watches him. TRACKER begins to rotate his head, arch, and in other ways show he is coming out of it. He finally touches his forehead to earth)
GRANDMOTHER
How did it go? TRACKER
We intercepted him. He made the choice for life. A good start. I still don’t know how long we can keep Death at bay, though. GRANDMOTHER
We will do what we can. (Alert) I feel him coming. TRACKER (Rising quickly)
I will leave him to you. GRANDMOTHER
Continue to hold the energy. TRACKER
Oh, I will indeed. We need this one. (Bows and exits right)
(GRANDMOTHER claps and the tipi wall begins to glow. It stretches the entire back stage in a partial curve. A huge circular window, at least ten feet across, like a porthole, is cut in the wall. It is the scrim, behind which hides a platform for certain scenes. It can also take projections. At each end of the wall is a dark tunnel opening, about four feet high, hence to be called portals. Characters stoop to enter and exit. Beneath the central window is a futon-like mat , covered with Indian blankets and cushions. Other items can include ceremonial drums, native-looking stools, pots, etc. Mainly, things are arranged against the tipi wall, leaving most of the stage open for dancers and actors)
(Now, GRANDMOTHER claps more loudly and stars appear in the great window. A double clap and dreamcatchers, in varying sizes, descend and hang like ornaments. She looks about, then a thought dawns. A quick triple clap and a teapot descends, and hangs suspended in the air. Satisfied, she sits near the left portal, and busies herself with beadwork. In a few moments, stamping is heard outside)
JOE (Offstage)
Hello!... HEL-LO!.. It’s me, the writer!
(GRANDMOTHER enters the left portal and a howling wind and bursts of snow follow. She returns with JOE. He stamps and brushes himself off)
JOE
Wow, what a blizzard! You were right. Thanks for the shelter.
(GRANDMOTHER has brought him a blanket. She takes his parka and spreads it. The beam again comes on, but a warm hue. It will turn itself off shortly. As she pours tea from the pot hanging in the air, JOE is showing more and more awe as he studies the scene)
JOE
Say, what kind of tipi is this? GRANDMOTHER
It is how my people live. JOE
Out there, this was a small tipi. I could swear. This is gigantic! GRANDMOTHER
You cannot judge in such weather. Please be seated
(Hands the cup to JOE, after he sits, wrapped and shivering)
GRANDMOTHER
This will be good medicine. JOE
Mmmm. Thank you. Thank you. GRANDMOTHER
I am Grandmother Medicine Hug. You may call me Grandmother.
(GRANDMOTHER rolls and puts away the parka, then resumes her sitting. All the while JOE sips and glances awkwardly about)
JOE
Grandmother, what tribe are you from? GRANDMOTHER
The Lost Tribe. JOE
DeLoss. DeLoss. Sounds French-Canadian. Tracker said you were passing through. GRANDMOTHER
Yes. We are the keepers of our tribe’s totem animal. The see-lion. It is about to die. We are returning it to the ocean. JOE
I’m sorry. It took sick? GRANDMOTHER
A few hours ago. JOE
Sea otters need lots of water. GRANDMOTHER
A see-lion. It is the sacred three-eyed lion. Someone stole its third eye. It is pining away. JOE
That sounds incredibly like poetry I write! Excuse me for saying that. GRANDMOTHER
Always speak your truth. (Shakes a leather cup with her palm over it) I have here medicine stones. If you wish, I will read your fortune. JOE
Really? You know, I wouldn’t mind. Talk about pining away. I’ve had a rotten turn of luck. Four years ago, I wrote a book that brought me some attention. Of poems, called "The Hero With A Thousand Excuses." Protest mostly, about how through history the Hero uses every excuse to conquer, brutalize, rape, not just human beings but earth itself. I guess Native Americans know what I mean. Well, that got me the poet-in-residence position at, well, a big name college. And soon after, I met this girl, so things were great. I even took on a pen name, went from Joseph Camel to Joe Poet, so people wouldn’t confuse me with— well, with another author. Anyway, suddenly, last week, I was terminated, just like that. Let go, without a word of explanation, or apology. And then, my woman, well, she upped and left. Then, I learned that the college was offered a huge grant by an old graduate in the oil industry. But he had a hair up his rear about what I stood for, and wanted me out. So. Greed triumphs again. Not to mention my landlord giving me notice when he heard I was fired. GRANDMOTHER
My heart hears. But you have not given me your feelings. For Great Spirit to do His medicine, you must fill this tent with your feelings. So I ask, sing me a poem from this book you speak of. JOE
Mm. Well, let’s see. Okay. Here’s one I remember. (Drops blanket and stands)
The beast,
the chain,
the forge,
the weapon,
for all to see by time.
The dove,
the crown,
the tree,
the cross,
for all to see by love...
(GRANDMOTHER nods to show she is pleased. JOE is a bit self-conscious, not sure of his audience)
Uh, that one’s pretty tame... Here, this one is stronger. It should fill the tent.
‘Hail Caesar! We who paint a moustache of filth across the sky salute you!’
But over this shout of sleeping mankind
roars a voice that brings their cry to its knees:
You! it thunders. You who blush
to read my warning on the walls!
You, wearing Caesar's eyes and oily cloak!
You choose to kiss the mouth of murder
to bargain for the corpse of Caring.
You want her children.
You want to soil them
with the semen of your greed.
You told your priests,
"When you find her
with her sweet belly up,
she'll be dead.
So don't ball her,
just take her golden cup."
Now I say to you, hear me.
Yesterday,
I was told to dig your grave
by a man atop a minaret
looking for a slave.
"Nonsense," I said.
"They have already
dug it themselves."
I am the lawless lover.
The troublemaker of the camp.
I live on the edge.
I dig graves with my teeth
and trample through your careful gardens.
I pis in your cup of sleep
and torpedo schemes
till even truth trembles.
Your daughters
jump to marry me.
I plough their furrows.
Their hips
move to my music
and deliver me
a generation
destined to make you weep
tears black as midnight's throne.
Betraying all your gods
I eat your bones
and ride the lightning to your grave.
My cry
invokes the might
of the terrible riders of the night.
Even now,
they warn away the stars
to mark their battlefield.
You will deal,
O I say,
you will deal with me!
I guard the black hole
where you go to have your lies pulled.
I stand before your murderous altars
and send my huge hawks
hurtling down
to snatch away each bloody stone.
I lay before your sun, now hollow,
to watch your empire
like your swollen ships
break apart and sink into the sea,
your cruel remains
and ill-gotten gains
bobbing on the waves
like slops in a pail.
My name is Justice,
and I am the hideous hiss
of all your crimes
returning to roost,
waiting
with greedy teeth
to feast,
till only
what you once held dear
is left.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
(GRANDMOTHER again looks pleased)
JOE
My second book is a bit, well, sweeter. GRANDMOTHER
Great Spirit honors your gift. JOE
Thank you. (Drops into his seat and blanket, shivering)
(GRANDMOTHER shakes her cup and studies the stones where they roll)
GRANDMOTHER
You were not happy where you were. You were about to betray your soul by writing a false book. So the gods took away their protection. JOE
Hmm. Interesting. And I’d say right on. GRANDMOTHER
You must write only poetry of the soul, not what is in fashion. JOE
I think that’s why the third book has been such a struggle. Being in academia was starting to take me away from where I have to go next. Say. What about my girl, running off? Right after I get fired, out of the blue, her ex calls and says let’s try again. She bragged about his new airplane, and how he can provide what I’ll never be able to give her. GRANDMOTHER
I see two trees. One is growing large, the other is not. She could never keep up with you. She is too wounded. JOE
But I love her. GRANDMOTHER
You are drawn to save wounded women because you are wounded. If you take in a stray, do not be surprised if it leaves when the master whistles. JOE
What can I do? GRANDMOTHER
Heal the wound, not the world. Dark shadows follow you round. They enter through that wound. They do not want you writing from your soul, only from the wound. JOE
That’s powerful. Something to think about. GRANDMOTHER
You must stop thinking! The mind does not want you healed. It wants to own your soul. JOE
As a poet, I hear you. As a human... I don’t know what to say. GRANDMOTHER
Do not think like a human. Do not feel like a human. Know, like a poet. Take off all the lies that make you no better than those you write against. JOE
I... I don't understand. GRANDMOTHER
Like so many artists, you want to be proud father of Beauty before you have tamed the Beast she rides, who will only turn and devour her, then you. JOE
Ouch. (Beat) Okay. So... what's the answer? GRANDMOTHER
I will call granddaughter. She will show you.
(Plays a short sweet riff on a flute. From the right portal ROSE emerges. She is a radiant Indian maid, and JOE is startled by her beauty)
ROSE
Grandmother, you called? GRANDMOTHER
This is granddaughter Rose-Petal-O-So-White. ROSE (To JOE)
Rose White. GRANDMOTHER
And this is... JOE (Bows)
Joe Poet. Bard, actor, minstrel, and, let’s see. Oh, yes, colossal failure. ROSE
Oh, don’t say that. I see you are a beautiful poet. JOE
You do? ROSE
Yes. I love your poetry. JOE
You do. Well, two won’t be enough for a class action suit against the world, I’m afraid. Charging neglect and...uh...failure to tip. (Awkward pause) Say, how do you know my poe — GRANDMOTHER
Granddaughter, what is his pain? ROSE
I feel it here (touches his heart), here (throat), here (solar plexus), and here (indicates his crotch). GRANDMOTHER
Can you help him move it? ROSE
If he wants. GRANDMOTHER
Do you, poet? JOE
Well... GRANDMOTHER Do you?? JOE (To each)
Certainly. Absolutely! ROSE
Then look at me and sing to me, from your pain. GRANDMOTHER
She is now your woman. Sing, poet, what you feel. JOE (Guarded)
Well, anger, of course. Despair. A-a yearning, maybe. A hope, that- that we could work this out. ROSE (Taking charge)
I will lead and you will follow.
(Closes eyes and tunes in, then recites, softly at first, building slowly into a song JOE will join. Lights narrow on them only)
Dear God, empty, and yes I seek.
Lying twisted, blood on cheek,
fallen from my high trapeze
made of words that were too weak.
Dear God, hungry, and yes I weep.
Suddenly the shit’s too deep
and I don’t give a flying leap.
Give me this day eternal sleep,
not pain.
Walking, stripped alone,
in my poems, on my own,
hungry for a hundred breasts
to press against the void in me.
In a world that’s sick
putting reasons where the moon should be
I have been such a prick
putting words
where love should be...
(Sings)Quicktime file doesn't load? Hear it with Flash
I SCRAPE THE WORDS AWAY THAT LAY
WHERE FOOTSTEPS CRUSH TO TEARS
THE THINGS I DID NOT LEARN TO SAY
ONCE
WHEN ALL THAT MATTERED WAS,
WE LOVED. JOE(Sings)
WITH SOLITARY STEPS I TRACE
THE BLUR OF WHAT WE WERE
AND WHAT REMAINS AND WON'T ERASE
ARE WORDS
LIKE FLOCKS OF FRIGHTENED BIRDS. ROSE
O WORDS! JOE
TOYS FOR THE MIND
BUT NOT FOR JOINING HEARTS. ROSE
O WORDS! JOE
GOT TO BE BLIND
TO GIVE MYSELF TO ART! ROSE
O WORDS! JOE
PROPS TO STOP OFF PAIN ROSE
WHEN LOVE IS GONE JOE
AND SHADES ARE DRAWN BOTH
AND WORDS ALONE REMAIN! JOE
O WORDS! ROSE
TOYS FOR THE MIND
BUT NOT FOR JOINING HEARTS. JOE
O WORDS! ROSE
GOT TO BE BLIND
TO GIVE YOURSELF TO ART! JOE
O WORDS! ROSE
PROPS TO STOP OFF PAIN JOE
WHEN LOVE IS GONE ROSE
AND SHADES ARE DRAWN BOTH
AND WORDS ALONE REMAIN! ROSE
O WORDS! JOE (Spoken)
I would know any love
to open my heart,
to touch the stars,
to find my truth. ROSE
O WORDS! JOE (Spoken)
My control prevents me.
My defenses hold me back.
My knowledge
keeps me blind to truth. ROSE
O WORDS! JOE (Sing)
PROPS TO STOP OFF PAIN ROSE
WHEN LOVE IS GONE JOE
AND SHADES ARE DRAWN BOTH
AND WORDS ALONE
REMAIN! ROSE
Oh, my. Such guilt. Yet nothing said or left unsaid caused her to leave, Joe. It was time for her to go. And you know what? Under that layer of guilt, I could hear another cry. Words are your sacred tool, yet you want more than words. More even than what all these earlier women I see around you could provide. What is that, Joe? Heart knows. Speak from the heart. JOE(Long pause)
Dear God, needed, one beautiful,
any measurement will do.
Horror is
not to know her bliss,
she, Woman,
her beauty,
belly,
breast
and slender nest.
O the golden sweet need
for Woman. ROSE
Yes, under it all, you long for the Impossible She. Isn’t that so? But to find her, you must first let go of Tanya. JOE
How did you know Tanya’s name!? ROSE
I am inside you, Joe. Why wouldn’t I? JOE
But, how can I let go of Tanya? I love her. Even though she always was a gypsy. ROSE (Stepping forward to lightly touch his heart and throat)
For a little while, I will be Tanya. (Steps back and waits. Colors shift and swim over her, creating a dreamlike impression) For a little while...
JOE (Sings)Quicktime file doesn't load? Hear it with Flash
FOR A LITTLE WHILE
LET ME LAY AND HOLD YOU CLOSE, DEAR.
JUST A LITTLE WHILE,
A LIFETIME AT THE MOST, DEAR.
BLAME YOUR GYPSY SOUL
OR I CAN BLAME MY FAULTS, DEAR,
BUT BEFORE YOU CLOSE THE VAULT
ON THIS WEALTH THAT WON'T UNFOLD
LET US LAY AND BOTH BE GOLD
FOR A LITTLE WHILE.
AND I SWEAR TO YOU THE STARS
WILL AGAIN BE OURS.
WE WILL LAUGH AND JOKE
WITH YOUR DEAR FAIRY FOLK.
WE WILL FILL THIS ROOM
WITH A MAGICAL MOON
WALKING DIAMONDS ON THE SEA,
ON THE SEA OF YOU AND ME,
IN EACH DIAMOND GLINT A HINT
OF THE DREAM THAT WANTS TO BE!
FOR A LITTLE WHILE
I WILL LAY AND HOLD YOUR GHOST, DEAR.
JUST A LITTLE WHILE,
A LIFETIME AT THE MOST, DEAR.
IF YOU GO AWAY
YOUR MEMORY WILL HAUNT ME.
I WILL HOLD YOUR PHANTOM FORM
AS I LIE AWAKE AT DAWN
AND THEN DREAM YOU'RE ONLY GONE
FOR A LITTLE WHILE.
O, I SWEAR TO YOU THE STARS
CAN AGAIN BE OURS.
WE CAN LAUGH AND JOKE
WITH YOUR DEAR FAIRY FOLK.
BUT IF YOU AND I
ARE NO LONGER A TEAM,
WHAT WILL FILL THIS LONELY ROOM
WILL BE TEARS AND THEN A MOON
WALKING DIAMONDS ON THE SEA,
ON THE SEA OF ONLY ME.
ON THE SEA OF ONLY ME.
ON THE SEA OF
ONLY ME!
(ROSE goes and holds JOE in a long embrace, as lights slowly rise to full again)
ROSE
She’s gone, Joe. You released her. You’re back safe now, in your own loneliness, where we always have to start. GRANDMOTHER(Rising)
My work is finished. Granddaughter will continue. Good night, children. ROSE
Good night, Grandmother. JOE (Still recovering)
Oh, yes, good night. And, thank you. GRANDMOTHER
Thank your lucky stars.
(GRANDMOTHER ducks and exits out the right portal)
(JOE is shy at first, mostly because he has developed feelings for ROSE. She leads him to sit on the central mat. He accepts more tea. Then she is beside him)
JOE
Your grandmother said you are people of the DeLoss Tribe. Is that French-Canadian? ROSE
We are of the Lost Tribe. The Lost Tribe of IsReal. JOE
The Lost Tribe of Israel!? ROSE
No, the Lost Tribe of Is-Real. We live among the stars. JOE
Whoa. That rings a bell. Didn’t I see a falling star just before your grandmother called? ROSE
Yes, and you made a wish, so we came. JOE
What wish? ROSE
A death wish. We are here to help. JOE
To help me die? ROSE
Well, sort of. To die to the old you, really. JOE
You claim you came all the way from a distant star just to help little old me? ROSE
You see, we help you, and that helps us. JOE
Meaning what? ROSE
If we help your people remember who they really are, we won’t be lost anymore. JOE (After long pause)
Is this a dream? ROSE
O, no. You see, this is very real. What you came from is the dream. JOE
What I came from. And where am I now? ROSE
In Dreamtime. JOE
Then, this is a dream. ROSE
No, Dreamtime is what is real, the rest is illusion. JOE
And how did I get here? ROSE
You called. JOE
I wish I may, wish I might? That did it? ROSE
That, and the poetry. You see, poetry lives in our awareness. So we recognized you as one of us, one who is... ready to remember. JOE
And if I remember, whatever, then what? ROSE
Then you have passed the initiation and are again, part of our tribe. Which means we can be found again. JOE
By who? ROSE
By each person we help remember, and they can show others. JOE
This is too deep. ROSE
More tea then. It is for clarity. It will help you understand. JOE (After sipping)
. . .May I speak my mind? ROSE
You may. You always must. JOE
I find you... very attractive. ROSE
That is good. Soon we will join in love. JOE
Just like that?!? ROSE
O no, first you must be prepared. We must both join in love, after all. JOE
You don’t have something going with this Tracker guy? ROSE
My twin brother, Tracker, I love, but not like a poet. JOE
Don’t your people have some sort of formality, like me passing muster with, well, say, Grandmother? ROSE
Tracker, you will see. That old woman, you will never see again. JOE
Why not? ROSE
That was only a form you could bear. When she comes to you in her true form, she will be the Beloved. JOE (Almost gags on tea)
That, is too staggering. I won’t even go there. (Sips more tea, nervously) To go back. You said poetry lives in your awareness. ROSE
Yes, true poetry. And therefore true poets. Not all who write verse are poets, you see. JOE
And, am I? ROSE
That is why we answered your wish. ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star’ is not poetry. Nor will "I wish I may, wish I might’ bring us. But what you wrote, what you sent up in smoke, I tuned in to, and felt such love! (Laughingly) I made Grandmother bring me here. JOE
Too much! (Laughs, rises to stretch) Please, I can only hold so much tea! If my brain doesn’t pop from this exchange, my bladder will! (Moves about) Seriously... (Kneels before her) When you tuned in, what did you see that makes me, in your perception, lovable? ROSE
That you are a true poet. JOE
Meaning? ROSE
You are able to die then live again, inside words. Able, not just willing. Many of your poems come from that place. And, I saw many more in you, yet to be born. JOE(Sinks back)
That’s consoling. Hey, don’t I wish! ROSE
We wish it too. You are able to speak of death, and rebirth, and that makes you valuable to us. JOE
And, lovable to you? ROSE
And lovable to me.
(Leans and kisses JOE. It becomes a long tender moment. Then he blinks, and springs up, bouncing around)
JOE
This is too much! You make me feel... I am a poet, that it’s a good and noble thing. An hour ago, it was a curse, ruining my life. I felt crushed, a fool! I downed a whole bottle of pills! I... Hey! Wait a minute! I really did take pills. ROSE (Adding tea from teapot to cup JOE left on chair)
Drink more tea. It is important. It is also important that I prepare you. (Handing JOE his cup) Do you trust me? JOE(Taking cup)
I want to. But those pills—.(Last word stepped on by her first word) ROSE(Leading him)
Pillow your head over here, and lay in comfort. I will use many modalities. This is the first. JOE (Following)
Why don’t I have to go to the bathroom first? ROSE
This tea does not do that. JOE
How convenient, given that it’s raging out there. (Lays back where she has steered him, a mat at stage right, and looks about. Sits up, slides jacket off) How do you keep this tent so warm? (ROSE is busy fetching a blanket) Well, if I am dreaming, may as well enjoy it. (Drains cup, lays back, closes eyes)
(After a few moments, ROSE kneels beside the sleeping JOE, covers his arms and chest)
ROSE
Joe. Rest. When you dream, let it be a dream of Sweet Remembrance. As you journey, you will hear poetry. Our people’s poetry. What we sing to your people, what we sing to you, now, to bring you back home. Here, in Dreamtime, you are safe. Death shall not enter your dreaming, nor his agents. Tonight, we guard you. Sweet dreams, Joe. And O, Sweet Remembrance.
Quicktime file doesn't load? Hear it with Flash
