A handy man should always have
A pocket knife by his side
No better friend in times of need
Could come to be at the ready
Rope was made for just the tool
So was whittling by the fire
And opening each bag of tools
Was fit just for that knife’s service.
Eager was the folding knife
Tucked away discreetly in thy pocket
So, then, was the fixed blade
Attached at a leather belt secure
To become of such valiant service.
For each man holds on to their tools
In which way feels right to them,
So no man shall defame a man
Who holds a knife at the ready
A handyman recognizes a good man
Who keeps a pocket knife ready for service.
But just as important for the handyman
A sharp blade makes one smile
A stone that keeps a blade able
For any task that rests at hand
No handyman should relax as if
Their blade be forever sharp
It is forever right that a handyman keep
Beside every dressing table to thy name
A handyman should keep right there
A handyman’s sharpening stone.
Tag: knife
Moon at Midnight – Part XXIX (day 2003)
Frank showed up on the first day
He came riding alone
And the scouts had recognized him
Knowing he was coming to us
They knew he was our friend
He spoke to Willow, Moon Cow and I
He said that he didn’t like
What news he had heard of the U.S. Army
Their movement was just too weird
And it seemed like they were gearing up
For a big militia action
He wanted me to know
That he, Amy and Lily
Would happily let us stay with them
Until everything blew over
I told him our plans
Of what Mountain Chief had told us
And that he would certainly see us in the coming months
He understood we couldn’t leave our family
At this time anyways
Without first supporting the migration effort
We had lots of organizing yet to do
So he gave us a token of his friendship
To help us on our way
A knife of fine Swiss steel
His father-in-law had recently given him.
The evening of the second day
We took our teepees down and began walking
Silently into the darkness
The horses carried a lot of the loads
With thongs strapping poles and
Leather skins across their backs
We moved quickly
As our family was very used to walking
Not like settlers
Walking in their fancy Victorian rags
And raggedy old wagons.
We walked for three days to the West
Into the heart of mountain country
It was colder in the foothills
Then out where we came from in the plains
But I loved the trees
Lots of jack pine
With big ol’ needles on them
Covering the ground that we walked on
Very nice and easy on the horse hooves.
We stopped in a valley
North of where Mountain Chief said
The U.S. Army would patrol
He knew the valley as a good hunting ground
That his fathers’ fathers hunted it
And it was far enough off of any regular trail
That it would be very hard for anybody
To find us
And over the next few weeks we
Began making ourselves acquainted with the land.
Moon at Midnight – Part XXIII (day 1997)
The land Mountain Chief had decided to camp at for the winter
Was full of buffalo and other small game
Looking for cover in the trees for the cold season
The flat land wasn’t too nice for them
We teamed up the neighboring camp of Blackfoot
Who’s chief took Mountain Chief’s sister to bed
Seeing all of the riders together
Gave me a chill up and down my spine
But it was beautiful to watch the skilled riders
Chase the buffalo down a buffalo run
Jumping to their deaths
Must have been houndreds of them
To skin and to smoke.
Moon Cow and I set to work at once building as many
Smoke houses as we could
In the fashion that I had first built with him
A few moons ago now
Some of the other people dug giant but shallow holes
Which they then put sticks beneath
Then a makeshift frame structure
That they layered buffalo onto
And on top of this
They lay the hides they had just skinned.
It was a massive undertaking and some days
I would ride up to the top of the cliff
And just look at all the people below working
Imagine how the buffalo had jumped with the stampede
Each day I would do at least three loads of newly smoked meat
Back to the camp we had
Wild Willow had set a home close by
Open air but many hides and blankets to keep us warm
Through the whole night
That we lived in while we were working
It was nice to have her warm body
To sleep next to every night
It was food for my soul.
Every night both of our people
Would get together around a large fire
And celebrate the harvest
The bounty we were all so thankful for
To keep us through the winter
Everybody was happy, laughing, dancing
I would watch Willow and Lily
Dance around with all their sisters
As the drums kept beating into the fresh night air
When she would come find me
She would be covered in a fine layer of sweat
And exhilarated by the night
I would join her at times
Trying to watch the other men
To see how they danced
So I could learn and feel like I belonged more.
When I would wake
There would still be smoke coming from the fires
But more importantly
Smoke would still be inside our smoke houses
That Moon Cow and I had stoked
Before we had gone to our beds
I would add more logs to each one
And when I returned to camp
Willow had special tea for me
With fried buffalo and eggs.
It was a lot of work
But methodical
Which I enjoyed
I definitely wasn’t as skilled as the others
At cutting and skinning
But I was good, and fairly quick
And my good knife definitely helped me
Some of the others used modified axes
That seemed to work fairly good
It was a city for those long days
Bustling with people here and there
Trading and helping
And I met many relatives
Ever curious who the white man was with Willow
It was clear that she was loved by many
And I could also see a few jealous Blackfoot
Looking at me, dressed in a mix of leather and cotton clothes
Wondering what I had that they didn’t
But Willow had told me this is just their way
That she had turned down some widowed elders
After Lily’s father had passed,
Content to help her brother and care for Lily
I wondered which ones.
Moon at Midnight – Part XIII (day 1987)
(part XII)
I could feel them before I saw them
When you walk through the forest
As much as I do
You know when something is a bit off
You look around searching for what it is
But keep walking as If nothing is wrong
As if you don’t suspect a thing
And don’t want it, whatever it is,
To know you’re on to it
It’s during these few steps
That you grow eyes on every part of your body
Listening and sensing and feeling and seeing
I always hope that whatever it is
Sees me and gets scared off
Because you know whatever it is
Means business if it doesn’t.
I put my palms to the front of me, open,
And stayed my path
But before to long I was forced to stop
By a native man standing in front of me
He had yellow paint across his eyes
And dots in red everywhere else
Yellow lines covering exposed skin on his body
His gun, resting on the ground
Was taller then him
I knew if push came to shove
I would be quicker then him at getting my gun
But I could see he’d be quicker with his knife.
As I came near I began to see
More and more of his brothers
Floating in and out of my vision
Playing havoc with my mind
There was no point in resisting
So I slowly pulled from my pocket
A large piece of moose meat
Amy and Frank had given me
And bowed before him with it in my hand, raised
He stood there without saying a word
Me bowed in front of him
For several minutes
Until finally he took the offering and ate it
And I stood up looking him in the eye
He said: “Frank. Amy.” and smiled
And patted me on the shoulder
I guess he knew the special flavor
They put on their jerky,
It was unique I had already admitted.
He pointed at me, and I said: Joe
With this he stopped dead in his animation
And stared directly into my soul
I saw him lose sight with far away eyes
And a vision come over him
Before I knew what was happening we were surrounded.
I had no choice in the matter and was led back to their camp
What hurry was I in?
They were friendly and had offered
To carry some of my things
Had offered me a horse
But I had said no
And their fast pace was slowed
To accommodate my slower, heavier footsteps
The trail was clearly used
And not hard to follow
Though we were walking south for three hours
I came to learn through one of the men
A bit about who I was with.
Precious Moments (day 1445)
Precious moments found inside silence,
Inside floating,
Inside crisp envelopes
Opened with a sharp knife,
Wait like a foreign Uncle
Who’s unaware of customs,
Unaware of time changes,
Unaware that foreign currencies
Cost in translation.
Precious moments are our forgiveness
And our floral holiday
Lightly cloaked in a daydream.
Hot sun on the patio
And sirens invisibly floating by,
Followed closely by breeze
Amongst full branches of a willow
And a lost call of a gull,
Precious.
Draw (day 840)
These are the moments we gather in life
Scattered with good and including some strife
But to turn off, turn away
To delay my way for another day
I will not; enchanted, I draw my knife
Destruction by a Knife (day 497)
Design the past like a finely pounded knife
Steel so sharp that it reflects only the fear in it’s suspecting victims
Design it with such fury that it can scare even that who wields it
Forget about the patience and peace
Forget about the delicate pieces of finely woven silk scarves
Master the brutish force of the devil and his raw red meat
Divide up the spoils of it’s destruction into finely placed paths
Chosen for their specific shape and moment of declaration
Point them onward, into their tomorrow that will never come
Their future that will only last mere moments longer
Allow them this one blazing glory
This one moment where they can feel free in their thought and speech
But never forget about their fate, never let them breathe too long
For in this mistake, this gravest of mistakes
It will then be your own fate to die in the eve of self destruction