the woodburning stove

he got it for cheap 

the woman said her parents had stored it in their barn since before she was born

Good thing for us our parents had a barn otherwise we would have been living with all the stuff they appropriated inside the house all the things they gathered for someday in case this or that bits and pieces of their grandiose dreams which I could see though they couldnt would never amount to anything or be realised

                       

The things they held onto to went fallow  unseeded and unturned all their lives

My folks God rest their souls were like squirrels hiding nuts or making shabby nests that fell unclaimed residing among refuse and bitter dry straw

he said I hear you though perhaps you ought concede that the things they hoarded they cherished

they were bits and pieces puzzle pieces if you may of imagined dreams                         

You might also consider that unrealised dreams are and remain worthwhile 

                                                              Arent they

Well I . . I . . . . I never thought of it that way 

Thats really quite lovely quite sweet

Im not sweet

Perhaps you just ought to say thank you when someone compliments you

he nodded 

          I reserve my thanks for second place
I never want anyone getting the wrong idea about me I know me and Id be hardpressed to vouchsafe anything on my behalf    

That said however  my words gold  You can take me by what passes out of my mouth  Im like Seusss Horton the elephant

        I meant what I said and I said what I meant  A hunred percent  

that was how their give and take their negotiation was transacted  how he acquired the woodburning stove for his one-room house the rose and auburn the thrills of bright yellow plumes raucous abstracts behind the saturated grate-toothed mica half of the house his living space faced west the other half his bedroom desk and chair faced the rising sun through unblinded and uncurtained windows

the woman said her father found it in a Mennonite community he often traveled through and stopped to trade

her father said he was told it was manufactured in Germany the 1930s

the unusual glass fixed in its door wasnt glass at all  it was spotted mica

he took up the wood floor where he wanted to place it and laid flatstone

he extended the stone hearth to also provide for an iron stacker he welded for storing wood inside

between the acquired stove and the existing fireplace he was pleased that they would throw ample heat if weather demanded

his learning curve regarding the stoves working was weirdly steep and natural

he seemed to remember his mother saying that as a young girl she spent her summers on a relatives farm in Indiana

there she learned to cook and bake on a woodburning stove

maybe something sifted or shook up his genetic memory or recall sometimes curious things were in the mica or moving behind it which caused him pause and to look the stove didnt confound him in the least

some months after he completed its installation realised his unguessed kitchen talents he received an invitation to hunt elk from a friend who lived in Montana 

his acquaintance wrote that he intended they would ride ponies up into the mountains   

arriving he was mildly disappointed  he wished his friend would have said he had extended invites to others

not four hours in riding up to the base camp on the West Fork of the Bitterroots he thought to himself  AwChrist Ive done this before  he tried not to let his enthusiasm for the hunt falter

at the hunting cabin the other men unpacked their heavy Weatherbys which hung in scabbards alongside their horses bellys

taking them in hand they copped obscene postures acting as if the long rifles were extensions of their cocks  laughing they harassed him Yawanna touch this beauty

he smiled  No thank you  I my prefer my .270

he was grateful that in their playing they didnt point them at each other but gazed their large bores into the hard ground or creamy skies trussed on ridges of Engelmann Spruce and whitebark pine   

there were times he was certain something was inside the stove looking out watching him suspiciously  he was certain there wasnt a man among them who served

not that that would be a comfort

when his friend introduced him to the others at the corral before riding out he told them that he was known as The Deerhunter 

          Youve seen the film yah deNiro called Deerhunter but it has nothing to do with hunting deer

You say dont you that hunting is about killing with a single shot right Thats your take on it what you say hunting ought to be right

Correct

oohs and aahs went up in a chorus from the high-caliber collective

only two days in he realised his caution regarding the other men was justified sometimes a cool draft bled out of the quiet stove it didnt descend the flue it smell of charred fat and bonel  they were exactly as he thought  Fuckin coboys

just below a ridge he hunted he suddenly pitched himself down into the dirt on his belly as gunfire erupted overhead bullets whistled slammed into the pines sheared limbs plumped and kicked up earth like in a firefight

he knew a thing about firefights
                           Nam
he was wounded in one  

a bullet creased his trap from behind 

pitched forward he rolled then spun twisted on his ass bringing up his 16

a cornfed boy from his squad accidentally shot him 

he nearly shot the sonofabitch in the face

Im sorry mahn the boy whimpered

Sorry dont cut it If I shot you in the face I wouldnt be sorry Id call it self defence call it improving my odds
Never walk behind me again

returning to camp near sunset he bypassed the medic his sergeant ordered him to see and went directly to the commanding officers tent a lieutenant colonel bearing a prominent American business name who polished his knob incountry and intended to return home to pursue the family business and enter politics

the Right needed war heroes

he was livid  armed

he hustled pass the COs guard putting him off holding up a mittful of bloodied Cong handbills growling First order of business Existential risk to camp

entering he strode directly up the COs desk snapping a brisk salute  Sir

he took him by surprise Sir  Essential info  sir  and then let the bloodied slips of paper fall from his hand onto the paperwork spread across his metalframe desk  

then to the officers mad blinking and confusion he turned briefly exposed his wound You see this then turned back to the COs face A gift from our side

the officer perplexed remained seated  then an oblique afterthought he returned his salute

Sir  No  You and I are waay beyond that  sir

Now I know you know you aint getting any closer to the action than tucked away back here from everything and everyone else out in front of you                                                              

But here I am Ill be direct Ill talk to you like a businessman talks without concern for anything except his self-interest profits and an unfettered bottom line
Dregs for catfish 

Im out 

Youre going to transfer me Possibly special forces I have the talent set You know people Confer me a field rank Until I earn that rank every month you get the difference between it and what Im pulling now Guaranteed

Southerner that you are Ill assume youre familiar Tecumseh Sherman General Sherman you might bitch him at home a war criminal

He said war is cruelty
                   The crueler it is the sooner itll be over    

Youll recall my guarantee

If you dont reassign me this will be the only firefight youll ever engage

the lieutenant colonels face twitched solemnly Theres a man posted outside . . . 
. . . I saw him as I entered
Im not blind 
Unfortunately hell be a letter stateside you wont write

he said I see you have two options as he held up two fingers the peace sign Theres no sense flipping a coin
This business couldnt be simpler

You should understand I was raised by deadly serious old men on an Indian reservation  

They prepared me taught me everything I know

The reason Im incountry  beat serving time

In the States I had no leverage
You understand leverage
Right here right now   I hold leverage

Sir  I request you get me out this camp  sir

he stood dispassionately before the lieutenant colonels desk   a .45 in hand                                                                             

recognising he wasnt bluffing the CO swept aside the blooddamp handbills
he proceeded to opened drawers withdraw forms and began to process the orders

when he completed them affixed his stamp made his signature he handed them to him

almost simultaneously they heard overhead a bird approaching

I believe that can be your ride the lieutenant colonel said

Sir  Thank you sir
I believe youll lose those records after Im gone  sir

they had the knack  the greed for business

alone
       he was very good behind enemy lines

                                                 laying flat on his belly he looked over to the opposite ridge

every damn one in his party was firing their rifles  almost to a man using their rifle slings to stablise their aim

they were no Deerhunters

he had to trouble himself to stay his hand from returning fire

laying there they struck him as men would hunt differently or not at all if their prey shot back

under the bursts and melee it occurred to him how were they fixed to say whose elk it was if they killed it 

four men they had expended at least thirty rounds  

he supposed hed hear their rationale when he returned to camp that evening

after the gunfire played out they disappeared from atop the ridge

he didnt heard their boots picking their way down into the swale to climb again and retrieve the elk a sick yellow light stirred inside the oven like a dispossessed firefly a moth drawn into the dull light entering it any animal within hearings reach was spooked  

he wasnt shellshocked like some who returned something was there  furtive  undecided  shy  he was sure he didnt mince words seek euphemisms call something other than what it was to make them more palatable or not carrying violence or water as lies do


No  not shellshocked   but kin to the shellshocked or warriors those left with no place now among the innocent and untested who were desperate to work their way forward advance try and excise the taloned demons that found purchase on their frayed spun systems  systems intentionally and terribly corrupted

the French beat ass they understood the futility of Empire in Indochina

but the United States isolated by thousands of miles of seawater shining seas full of itself wouldnt take a lesson from the French

it had to learn bitter futility all on its own 
on the backs of boys whose lives up to the draft were made up of summer jobs earning a drivers license then a high school diploma while all the while trying to make a girl     

he hotwired himself and fortunately was able to stand to one side while others tried in vain to intimidate or groom  then bitched their shellshockedness 

he knew Tecumsehs bray and had hardwired it into his system before the United States had their shot at him     

he committed himself to it

no halfway 

halfwayd get you killed   

he saw the smoke and mist that rose up out of dead mens skulls saw in those shimmering veils thin tapestries the deads rambunctious childhoods saw the insides of their dark huts and brown families squatting on grass mats eating from carved bowls smoking pipes fireflies in the night saw  no  he witnessed their rites initiations their lust rutting on the jungles green littered floor  

he actually saw some who were old enough to vow love take a wife have a child or children

now all were dead 

their bodies left to rot in a humid jungle


he learned understood it wasnt a mortals place to bring anothers death

only if threatened existentially

  

he never sought it
it was put on him and put on him he wasnt rolling over like a helpless dog

he defined himself

his definition insulated him

and defined he wouldnt want to cross himself or have to face himself down

                                                             the unnecessary ugliness had a shelf life

something was there the spotted mica it being manufactured in Germany the stove really attracted him

he nodded off laying in bed a book collapsed on his chest its leaves spread spine proud a warm honey storyteller seducer he was halfasleep halfexpecting it to nuzzle his chest begin to wiggle slip like loose coils and curls of fragrant hair down to his belly his hand taking its spine clutching it pushing it down down encouraging it then at his hips at his hips where it gently fingered his cock with hunreds of patience teasing pages hungering him then eager but not too eager and sensual very sensual warm and moist engulfing his length taking him between its folds its spine firm riding him deliberately rocking side to side then rising up coming down then slowly up sliding slipping down and rising again . . . .
it lay tented on his chest 

over its long cherished spine that pointed like a finger  he looked  

he looked where it pointed

something was there where he laid he could see into the stoves face there was a yellow amber marbling and moulding

awake  he set the book aside on the mattress absently turned down the blanket and sheet burying the book got out of bed held his hand up he looked to the wall where the bed was against it and saw he could scarcely make it out his hands shadow he wiggled his fingers a forlorn goodbye and recognised their faint shadows animated by his random choreography

it threw enough substance  enough light

the stove was cold

ashes were in a pail beside it

he wouldnt stoke it for a couple more hours

stoked with shavings and kindling and flint and steel or matches

he entertained himself throwing sawdust over the growing fire and watched it spark like fairy dust immolate and disappear up the black throat of the flue

he walked across the room now never taking his eyes from its sinuous marbling and oily movement

he squatted

haltingly he expectantly placed his hand on the stove fearing heat or hot despite knowing it was black and cold and dead

t was cold inside a gob of highlighted plastic amber shone painting his naked chest with fluctuating hues and random patterns nonsensical

he squatted deeper

he peered as it were face-to-face into the mica

inside was dandelionyellow then it striated with bolts quivering blackness veined purple its surface burnt like stone captured in a lava flow then crumbling translucent once more                     

then somewhere inside it
                            movement
                                              deliberate   distinct   movement                                                                              

his hand still atop the stove
undirected it sought its corner and held it
he felt something electric emanate vibrate he felt source as if his fingers were underwater gently tugged by the current of a creek in the creek outside the house
it palpating his fingers brushing the palm of his hand                                            

the movement inside the stove began assembling 
disparate bits gobs of mercury remembering itself 
coalescing 
          the assembly moved forward moved towards the mica  his face

he was spellbound  expectant unexpectant

his knees groaned maybe urging him back  away

his hand luxuriated in the fine sensation the semblance of slow moving creek water the rose and auburn the thrills of bright yellow plumes raucous abstract touched the mica inside

then a small childs hand appeared

distinct

first fingertips then fingers
                        then a firm flatplaced palm

bringing his free hand up from where he cradled it on his thigh at his knee he held it up to the mica touched it opposite the childs hand hiding the childs hand behind his

then flickering butforafewseconds a boys face appeared over his hand opened his eyes troubling away a deep sleep  the child didnt want to open his eyes he blinked provocatively fluttered his lashes
his eyes yawned

then the boy closed his eyes and what he saw in the mica subsided

it churned in twisting coloured skeins curls

tumbling marbling 

then dull and duller the failing light gone black   extinguished

he lived out away from people nurturing and protecting his introvert

he kept away those who might stomp his toes inadvertently                                                   

he kept them at bay for their own safety


                                   all things seem to possess undying memories
niggling  they return

returning when they can

                              one could surmise they return like silent forgotten viruses

1555,  Saturday,  21  5. 16
1051,  Twosday,  24 5. 16

woodburning stove 3 of 3

*      *      *

alone
       he was very good behind enemy lines


 

                                                 laying flat on his belly he looked over to the opposite ridge

every damn one in his party was firing their rifles  almost to a man using their rifle slings to stablise their aim

they were no Deerhunters

he had to trouble himself to stay his hand from returning fire

laying there they struck him as men would hunt differently or not at all if their prey shot back

under the bursts and melee it occurred to him how were they fixed to say whose elk it was if they killed it 

four men they had expended at least thirty rounds  

he supposed hed hear their rationale when he returned to camp that evening

after the gunfire played out they disappeared from atop the ridge

he didnt heard their boots picking their way down into the swale to climb again and retrieve the elk a sick yellow light stirred inside the oven like a dispossessed firefly a moth drawn into the dull light entering it any animal within hearings reach was spooked  

he wasnt shellshocked like some who returned something was there  furtive  undecided  shy  he was sure he didnt mince words seek euphemisms call something other than what it was to make them more palatable or not carrying violence or water as lies do

No  not shellshocked   but kin to the shellshocked or warriors those left with no place now among the innocent and untested who were desperate to work their way forward advance try and excise the taloned demons that found purchase on their frayed spun systems  systems intentionally and terribly corrupted

the French beat ass they understood the futility of Empire in Indochina

but the United States isolated by thousands of miles of seawater shining seas full of itself wouldnt take a lesson from the French

it had to learn bitter futility all on its own 
on the backs of boys whose lives up to the draft were made up of summer jobs earning a drivers license then a high school diploma while all the while trying to make a girl     

he hotwired himself and fortunately was able to stand to one side while others tried in vain to intimidate or groom  then bitched their shellshockedness 

he knew Tecumsehs bray and had hardwired it into his system before the United States had their shot at him     

he committed himself to it

no halfway 

halfwayd get you killed   

he saw the smoke and mist that rose up out of dead mens skulls saw in those shimmering veils thin tapestries the deads rambunctious childhoods saw the insides of their dark huts and brown families squatting on grass mats eating from carved bowls smoking pipes fireflies in the night saw  no  he witnessed their rites initiations their lust rutting on the jungles green littered floor  

he actually saw some who were old enough to vow love take a wife have a child or children

now all were dead 

their bodies left to rot in a humid jungle


he learned understood it wasnt a mortals place to bring anothers death

only if threatened existentially

  

he never sought it
it was put on him and put on him he wasnt rolling over like a helpless dog

he defined himself

his definition insulated him

and defined he wouldnt want to cross himself or have to face himself down

                                                             the unnecessary ugliness had a shelf life

something was there the spotted mica it being manufactured in Germany the stove really attracted him

he nodded off laying in bed a book collapsed on his chest its leaves spread spine proud a warm honey storyteller seducer he was halfasleep halfexpecting it to nuzzle his chest begin to wiggle slip like loose coils and curls of fragrant hair down to his belly his hand taking its spine clutching it pushing it down down encouraging it then at his hips at his hips where it gently fingered his cock with hunreds of patience teasing pages hungering him then eager but not too eager and sensual very sensual warm and moist engulfing his length taking him between its folds its spine firm riding him deliberately rocking side to side then rising up coming down then slowly up sliding slipping down and rising again . . . .
it lay tented on his chest 

over its long cherished spine that pointed like a finger  he looked  

he looked where it pointed

something was there where he laid he could see into the stoves face there was a yellow amber marbling and moulding

awake  he set the book aside on the mattress absently turned down the blanket and sheet burying the book got out of bed held his hand up he looked to the wall where the bed was against it and saw he could scarcely make it out his hands shadow he wiggled his fingers a forlorn goodbye and recognised their faint shadows animated by his random choreography

it threw enough substance  enough light

the stove was cold

ashes were in a pail beside it

he wouldnt stoke it for a couple more hours

stoked with shavings and kindling and flint and steel or matches

he entertained himself throwing sawdust over the growing fire and watched it spark like fairy dust immolate and disappear up the black throat of the flue

he walked across the room now never taking his eyes from its sinuous marbling and oily movement

he squatted

haltingly he expectantly placed his hand on the stove fearing heat or hot despite knowing it was black and cold and dead

t was cold inside a gob of highlighted plastic amber shone painting his naked chest with fluctuating hues and random patterns nonsensical

he squatted deeper

he peered as it were face-to-face into the mica

inside was dandelionyellow then it striated with bolts quivering blackness veined purple its surface burnt like stone captured in a lava flow then crumbling translucent once more                     

then somewhere inside it
                            movement
                                              deliberate   distinct   movement                                                                              

his hand still atop the stove
undirected it sought its corner and held it
he felt something electric emanate vibrate he felt source as if his fingers were underwater gently tugged by the current of a creek in the creek outside the house
it palpating his fingers brushing the palm of his hand                                            

the movement inside the stove began assembling 
disparate bits gobs of mercury remembering itself 
coalescing 
          the assembly moved forward moved towards the mica  his face

he was spellbound  expectant unexpectant

his knees groaned maybe urging him back  away

his hand luxuriated in the fine sensation the semblance of slow moving creek water the rose and auburn the thrills of bright yellow plumes raucous abstract touched the mica inside

then a small childs hand appeared

distinct

first fingertips then fingers
                        then a firm flatplaced palm

bringing his free hand up from where he cradled it on his thigh at his knee he held it up to the mica touched it opposite the childs hand hiding the childs hand behind his

then flickering butforafewseconds a boys face appeared over his hand opened his eyes troubling away a deep sleep  the child didnt want to open his eyes he blinked provocatively fluttered his lashes
his eyes yawned

then the boy closed his eyes and what he saw in the mica subsided

it churned in twisting coloured skeins curls

tumbling marbling 

then dull and duller the failing light gone black   extinguished

he lived out away from people nurturing and protecting his introvert

he kept away those who might stomp his toes inadvertently                                                   

he kept them at bay for their own safety


                                   all things seem to possess undying memories
niggling  they return

returning when they can

one could surmise they return like silent forgotten viruses

1555,  Saturday,  21  5. 16
1051,  Twosday,  24 5. 16