JAMES KOLLER'S B O N E S H O W ~

COYOTE

I keep coming back —

born again, born again,

Like the Blue Sky.

I know what comes before

& after, what will be.

I know all about it, ask me.

It's all going to happen.

Everything in its time.

Everything like it's supposed to be.

Just watch how I do it.

Keep at it, keep your head straight.

Day after day, Blue Sky.

Just watch. Do it like me.

WOLF WOMAN

What is thought will happen —

first you must think of it

& then you must do it.

The timing must be right.

What is done must be right

for the time, suit the time —

summer's work in the summer

One foot must follow the other —

they cannot go their own ways.

First there is the pattern

& then it's unfolding.

She who takes the seed with love

gives birth with love.

BABA YAGA

Rain & rain & rain & rain.

There is water everywhere!

Everything is afloat!

This is the beginning.

You can't stand still.

Where will you go?

What can we do?

Make the right choice.

HOMBRE

Tie the right knot

at the right time.

You know what it has to do.

Know how to untie

what you tie.

JACK

I won't stand & wait

until all becomes clear.

A spring bubbles up,

fills what space it can,

& flows as it has to,

makes its own way.

I must move on,

find my own way.

BABA YAGA

I'll answer your questions

when you can ask them.

Do you really want to know?

Does it matter

what you're told?

COYOTE

Sometimes you can smell trouble,

you know it's waiting to happen.

You don't have to help it along,

it'll come looking for you.

It'll come in its own time.

Don't get too curious.

Don't rush into it.

Maybe it won't find you.

BABA YAGA

I don't worry. Not me.

I know how strong I am.

I see things the way they are.

I always take time

to treat myself well.

BABA YAGA

I know what I want.

Things will go my way.

I will do anything

to make things go my way.

Don't doubt me.

I can do it.

I will do it.

I know what I want.

COYOTE

I'm not always right —

usually, but not always.

Even I know that.

Sometimes it pays

not to be right.

WOLF WOMAN

Know where you stand.

Know where you move to.

Know who goes with you.

Know that they know

where you stand, where you move.

Know that they know

why you stand, why you move.

Know that you are right in what you do.

BABA YAGA

You're not alone,

you just think you are.

The others will help.

Treat them well

& they'll treat you well.

BABA YAGA

The rivers will run to the sea.

That's the way it is.

Sometimes more, sometimes less.

They do it in their own time.

No one will stop them.

WOLF WOMAN

The time is right.

Everyone is known.

Things have been done together.

They will be done again & again.

Be yourself, as the others are.

What you do together

brings you together

& holds you together.

KWAN YIN

Being here is enough.

That you are here.

However gentle

you might be.

The wind must pass around you.

COYOTE

You have to know when it's time to wait.

You have to take it all into account.

Sometimes you have to wait.

Twiddle your thumbs.

Watch the clouds go by.

Practice your smile.

It isn't easy, but sometimes

there is no other way.

COYOTE

When I think about what I'm doing

everything turns out as it should.

I have to pay attention

or things just don't work

the way they're supposed to work.

To get things in order

I have to do them in order.

It's just the way my mind works.

FREYA

He knows what he knows

& I know what I know.

Only when I tell him

what I know

does he know.

WOLF WOMAN

We work together.

We know what we want.

We do what it's time to do.

Things get done.

What more can we ask?

COYOTE

It doesn't get any better

than this —

everything is where it belongs.

Everything has a name,

everything has a place.

There is a time for everything.

I could put it all together again

if I had to.

COYOTE

You can't talk me into anything.

I listen to my own mind.

I know what I want to do.

I don't take advice.

I decide if I'm right.

I decide if I'm wrong.

I do things my way

when I can get away with it.

WOLF WOMAN

When you're working alone

you can only do so much.

It all takes a long time,

but if you keep at it

what needs to be done gets done.

COYOTE

In the beginning

we gathered

around

& nobody knew

who anybody was.

I figured it out.

We needed names

if we wanted to talk

about one another.

SPRING

Sometimes someone

who is strong & clear

sees more of it all

& makes happen

more than we knew was needed.

SPRING

I have to know enough

to keep things straight.

I have to know enough

to keep my mind

where it belongs.

COYOTE

I didn't see it coming

but I can't let it go by.

There's a place for her,

all she has to do is remember

what it is —

why she's here.

If she can remember

we'll both remember.

WOLF WOMAN

Try to keep things in balance.

Try to keep things equal.

If a cup is too full it will spill.

If a cup is empty it can only be filled.

Give away what you don't need.

Be thankful for what was given to you.

Be sure to finish what you start —

don't get ahead of yourself.

JACK

A mother teaches her son

more than she knows.

It all goes through her hands.

She knows what to do with it.

She passes it all along.

HOMBRE

The rite of first thunder —

earth opens for the rain.

It has always been that way.

The old ones show the way.

These who believe in what must be done

are happy to be part of it.

Nothing holds back

what must be done.

WOLF WOMAN

If you believe in him

what he does is right.

You know he is right

& open doors for him

& sing to him.

___________________________________

I type out these poems from the opening pages of

James Koller's The Bone Show on the day he passed

away 10 December (2014). Hey there, Jim.

____________________________________

The folk literature of the world speaks from the accumulated traditions of its own diverse beginnings. Common to all these traditions are the desires to understand and to participate in both the known and the still-to-be-known worlds. It all adds up, the folk tell us, will all make sense, someday, to somebody.

THE BONE SHOW is a ghost dance, a chronicle of characters and ideas that, because of their folk origins are able to interact in and with the Present. They remain able to move beyond the known, are able to recreate from the Past, a Now and Future.

The inspiration and focus of the dance, the I CHING, first appeared as an outgrowth of folk traditions in ancient China. We know the eight characters who move through the dance from European and North American traditions as well as Asian. We know that what was done before will be done again. We too, have watched it happen. We know, even as we watch the dancers change, that it's all the same dance.

JAMES KOLLER

THE BONE SHOW

James Koller

Coyote Books

Rete Bioregionale Italiana

2004

JANINE POMMY VEGA POEM ~

 

Happy Birthday, Jim

RE-READING JAMES KOLLER ~

 

Snow on Mount Saint Helena

the mountain behind me, I drove south & west

passed three Angels in Valley Ford

five more & a girl at the crossroads to Tomales

& four gassed up at Point Reyes Station, roared away

chrome & hair catching sunlight, to the north

to join the others

Billy & Toby were off, again

to Oregon, as per

I Ching, The Book of Chnges

going thru changes

like music

harmoniously, minor discords

like she burned or threw away everything, always

burns her bridges

pulled the old light out of the ceiling

tore the wires loose, all connections

change gears

Angels at every turn

all crossed roads

both sides, the streets lined with Harleys, choppers

of every description

         he opened her coat

         & held it open

         carefully & with expert eye

         examined

         what she had to offer

         so to speak, as it were

                                             a whole world

& nothing ever dies, it's all here

on every road, behind every tree

growing out of the ground, a beautiful

fire, flames

                          I'm grinning

exhaust, carbon

                           diamonds & threads

my mind is filled with diamonds & threads

we go off in all directions, thru intersections & crossed roads

a necklace to live in

_________________________

JAMES KOLLER

POEMS for the BLUE SKY

Black Sparrow Press, 1976

___________________________________

A gorgeous book of poems, if you can find

yourself a copy, spanning the wealth of one decade —

the 1960s, which Koller had a vivid and active eye to.

Along with poems that come from the vanished, are the

poets versions of songs of the Tlinget and the

Teton Sioux, working after John R. Swanton

and Frances Densmore. One of Koller's

loveliest poems is also here, "Wind"

which reads the best in the context of all the book.

Less than 100 pages and every page a gem.

I BUILD WITH AN AXE

[BA]

photograph of James Koller

by Alo Zanetta

BACK ROAD CALLER ~ JAMES KOLLER ~

 

Back Road Caller

September 2020

RE-READING T H E B O N E S H O W ~

The Bone Show

Preface ~

The folk literature of the world speaks from the

accumulated traditions of its own diverse beginnings.

Common to all these traditions are the desires to

understand and to participate in both the known and

the still-to-be-known worlds. It all adds up, the folk tell

us, will all make sense, someday, to somebody.

THE BONE SHOW is a ghost dance, a chronicle of

characters and ideas that, because of their folk origins,

are able to interact in and with the Present. They

remain able to move beyond the known, are able to

recreate from the Past, a Now and Future.

The inspiration and focus of the dance, the I CHING,

first appeared as an outgrowth of folk traditions in

ancient China. We know the eight characters who

move through the dance from European and North

American traditions as well as Asian. We know that

what was done before will be done again. We too, have

watched it happen. We know, even as we watch the

dancers change, that it's all the same dance.

J A M E S     K O L L ER

____________________

If you own a copy of this book
hang onto it
so you can pass it on

BERTIE KOLLER ~

JAMES KOLLER IN ROME ~

JAMES KOLLER 83, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIM! ~

James Koller had a bunch of kids, all great kids, and I know most of them simply because their dad brought them to our house to meet them, and them us. It was that simple and familiar. Nothing like a visit!

Here is a message today from Bertie, Jim's son, a fine musician and craftsman, and while he is celebrating what would have been his father's 83rd birthday, he would like us to, too.

So get along.

[ BA ]

____________________

Hi all. 

In commemoration of what would have been James Koller's 83rd birthday today

I've added his reading of Brainard & Washington Street Poems 

to the collection at jameskoller.bandcamp.com

Enjoy,

Bertie

STONE HUT ( 8 ) ~

28

The bottom story of the hut was done, only the windows and door to add. The roof was solid — I had spent half a rainy day chinking the interior walls with smaller stone — listening to the rain patter off the wood shingles. The shingles take on a reddish buff after the rain; some of that is the red chalkline left on the roof. The next stage is the gable ends. I’ve thought about building the ends in vertical rough lumber — it would be quick but wouldn’t mend the eye with the lower story of stone. If I go with stone, it will have to be padded with mortar to fix the stone in place — someday kids will be running around this hut, and I don’t want to worry about a high stone tipping away and beaning them. I am down to a few flat stones, mostly it is chunk stone, which I can make look okay but can’t promise it will sit in place. I decide on using stone and packing mortar behind the stone, trying to hide most of it so the stone gables will blend with the dry wall of the lower story. I work off a six-foot scaffold — deliver stone to the site and toss it off the Willys onto the scaffold planks — lay that up…toss more stone up, lay that, then use the stone left over from the side walls piled away in one corner of the site. Two 80 lb. bags of premix mortar is used for the front gable. The stone will be seen outside but not inside; I’ve built a plywood wall inside to form the stone against. Also, another 6" x 6" beam was added to run the entire width of the front interior it doubles up beside the main 6" x 6" support beam and provides a wider and stronger shelf to lay the gable stone upon. Now there are twelve inches instead of six inches to work on. It took a weekend to lay up the front gable and box in a small barn sash window. That was the first window in the hut. It was centered with the ridgepole and doorway. All the other windows were ready to set, each painted light blue. The windows had been found over the years from various places. I bought the two lower front windows, four-light sashes, from my father’s lumberyard for five dollars. The horizontal window on the west side wall was once in our cabin, and the scalloped window on the east side — a lovely window providing the hut with early daylight — was found after we bought our house; leaning in decades of grime in the upper shaft of the woodshed. Before our friend David Emmons moved away from this area — I remember the day he stopped by with his car loaded for Arizona — he dropped off the two small windows boxed into the gable ends. I imagine he figured I would do something with them someday. Eight years later has them looking out of stone.

A star-design I like to cut into my cedar shingles~
this one is on the stone hut eastern side roof.
The original one. This roof was replaced,
new star cut in, this time with red cedar.

29

Jim and Leslie Koller and their two children Bert and Ida Rose visit us on Labor Day. The gable is complete and the rear gable is boarded for the same technique of laying stone against the boards from the outside. Since I will work on top of the ledge — the rear of the hut is roofed over the face of ledge — I can stone the gable without mortar. The barn sash is framed and hinged to open into the loft. The stone will be laid as I have the time in the fall. I have yet to build a low rail for the width of the loft. The loft deck is made of spruce and hemlock planks built onto doubled 2" x 6" crossties nailed to the rear bay of rafters. It is five feet wide and eight feet off the floor and plenty strong. When I was sixteen years old I built a loft in my first cabin away from home a half-mile in the woods behind my grandparents’ house in Cheshire, Massachusetts. Jim Koller was thirty-two years old and living on the West Coast and I was reading his poetry and a publication he edited named Coyote’s Journal. I never read anything like Coyote’s Journal before, and twenty years later, I still haven’t. Eight years after that first cabin I met Jim when he moved from the West Coast to Maine and was running a bookstore in Brunswick and raising sheep at home. Susan and I were returning to Vermont after a long week touring Newfoundland in a VW bug. I took an immediate liking to Jim. He has the animal gentle and wild to his eyes which has been mischaracterized as macho — it is better to align Jim with the title of one of his novels — “If you don’t like me you can leave me alone.” The bookstore job would only last a few years before he returned to landscape work, something he once did on the West Coast with fellow writer Bill Brown and the painter Jack Boyce. In Maine it was seven dollars an hour work, laying sod, trimming trees, mowing lawns. Coming home dirty and finding the time to write the poems picked up from the hands working all day. Jim Koller is one of the truest poets we have, and like life itself the poems read sky blue and rain flat. Few poets I know have put their hands as deep into the dirt as Koller. To appreciate the poems it helps to smell the same smells, hum to the old blues or folk song — from the highway or John Henry’s hammer. Live with it. Jim was visiting the stone hut and taking a close look. He is unpretentious as they come; sometimes he could talk more, but he walked around the hut, smiled at it, felt the edge of stone on the corners, then walked inside and let his eyes look. What he saw was a structure built for the ground, out of the ground. Naturally he understood.

A meeting on the Willys ~
James Koller, Ida Rose Koller, Bert Koller, Carson & Bob Arnold
The stone hut in the background
1985

30

Remember the maple tree growing out of ledge only four feet from the hut? It was the first week of September and already its upper leaves were dying back a pale orange, making me nervous with the hut closing on completion. I thought to trim it, especially the heavier branches reaching over the roof, but it would be a gamble. Instead I decided to drop the tree when our friend Scott Tindall was visiting to give me a hand with the job. We had done treework together in the past — Scott did the climbing and I did the felling. Sometimes we wrapped a rope around the top branches and cut at the stump while pulling the tree by hand into a desired direction; especially if we had to miss buildings or electric wires. We always had a good time. Once on a job Scott dropped my limbing chain saw forty feet from a dead elm. On the ground I counted the saw flips in the air — one…two…then it stuck into the ground, bar first. Lucky. I took the chain off, washed it, scraped the dirt from the bar, greased it again and roped it back up to Scott. Near misses were having to drop a tree between the garage and the house with utility wires strumming the air — we would have our eyes on the house and wires and miss the garage by inches. Drop a tree like that for $100, saw it into firewood, and think we were rich. Like me, Scott worked with whatever equipment he could afford, or what was at hand. The day he arrived to take a look at this maple tree I had a ladder against the base just touching the lower branches, and he got out of his car and scrambled up the tree in a pair of those topsider moccasins L.L. Bean sells. A new pair. He thought we could fell the tree with no limbing; I knew he didn’t want to limb anyway. When Jim Koller was here he eye-balled the tree to maybe fall backwards. I thought it would tip forward toward the pond (now dry) but perhaps lean a bit to its right, which would have it crushing the hut. Scott had his nylon ropes. When we first started out he used hemp ropes, just like I once used a fourteen-inch bar chain saw to drop three-foot wide trees. You learn. With one rope in the top branches of the maple tied to the Willys to steer the tree as it fell (just in case) plus two ropes tied around the base of the stump and then fastened to a pair of trees fifteen feet away to alleviate a kickback into the hut. I cut with my Jonsered, long bar, sharp, and while cutting talked to the tree asking forgiveness since I moved into its territory with the hut. Sound silly? Do the work and watch how you begin to talk to yourself. And it forgave by falling nicely into the pond. Leaves sailed down in the air after the tree was on the ground. I waved to Scott who didn’t have to use the Willys. The tree gave us a cord-and-a-half of firewood stacked near the hut in the sun. Then I climbed up to the big stump and chainsawed a “chair” out of the stump. There is a photograph of Susan, with Carson in her lap, sitting up there on it.

31

All six windows of the hut are in. The two side windows downstairs are fixed, as is the front gable window. The window in the loft opens inward. The two windows downstairs in the front open inward. No screens. I’ve nailed narrow trim boards around each outside frame to hide the plywood and complete the look. Stained the trim the same smoke color of the beam work. Everything is stained except for the interior gable walls; I’ll do something with them in the spring after I think about it during the winter. Winter is a time to review what you did over the year and to plan for the spring…cut firewood for the following winter, order garden seeds, shovel lots of snow. The hut roof has six inches of snow on it. The windows are shiny black. Two coats of stain on the beam work has done well — no knots bleed through. At every other snowfall I go to the hut and shovel snow away from the door. There is a broom inside to sweep the floor. A bump of snow is on the maple stump chair. The split maple firewood is under black plastic, twenty-five feet stacked. Now and then I see bluejays land over there and crack sunflower seeds they have taken from the feeder outside the kitchen door. A squirrel’s tracks circle the hut in the snow. It has a visitor.

all photographs by Susan Arnold

Stone Hut
a builder's notebook
Bob Arnold
1988, 2013

JAMES KOLLER & BERTIE KOLLER ~

OLD BLACK CROW ~

JAMES KOLLER IN EUROPE ~

thank you to the two beauties who made this gift possible — Rita for the fine translation — 

and Louise Landes Levi for sending the handsome broadside along

as a gift Italy-to-Vermont

NEW JAMES KOLLER ~

 

James Koller

Selected Poems 2003-2004-2005

Longhouse 2016

  72 pages, perfect bound, 5.5 x 6.25 inches

$12.95

order here through Paypal, plus $3.95 (US shipping only)

 

international shipping,  $12.95 plus $15

Check or money order to

Longhouse

PO Box 2454

West Brattleboro, VT 05303

JAMES KOLLER ~

J A M E S   K O L L E R

A River I Couldn't Find

Jan De Meyer, 2015

THE MAN WHO NEVER ~

BERTIE KOLLER FOR JAMES KOLLER ~

"This is a song I wrote for my father who passed away 10 December.
It was performed at a Winter Solstice celebration at my neighbor's house with Jamie (bass) & Sean (percussion) Oshima."

~ Bertie Koller

PORCUPINE ~

JIM KOLLER & PETER GARLAND SPEAK ~

Lato Selvatico "Libraria"
Strada Digagnola, 24
46027 Portiolo
Mantova
Bioregione Bacino Fluviale del Po
ITALY
morettig@iol.it
www.sentierobioregionale.org

November 2014

James Koller photograph: Maggie Brown
Peter Garland photograph: Esperanza Esquivel