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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 6, Number 2, June 2012

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Ray Rasmussen
Edmonton, Alberta, Canada


Dave, Wilderness Outfitter

My friend is resting in his tipi set in a remote mountain meadow. Its covering has long since shredded and only pieces of bleached canvas remain, small flags fluttering in today's breeze. Last year, we placed his ashes in the tipi's center where he used to build a fire. He'd sing to us until only embers remained and we had fallen asleep in the earth's warm embrace. The wind is singing now as it rushes through bare poles. How many days did it take him to build this once perfect shelter from a Plains Indian design? How many times did we ride his half-wild horses under this same pillowed sky, so far from the world's strife?


among clusters
of yellow avens

ash, bone


Notes: 1. This haibun is modeled on Li Po's poem, "To Tan-ch'iu the Hermit" (trans. Arthur Waley).
2. Full text of Li Po's poems and a discussion of his poetry by Arthur Waley is found on the Internet Archive website.
3. Li Po's poem on the Haibun Today website.

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