Boundaries, Part Two: The Place of the Sun with the Halo Rainbow

With Matthew - Old Oraibi, Arizona

One must go to Oraybi to not skip the ancient distribution line.
Here rocks and dwellings have been friends for thousands of years,
And, here, the ruins have old Kenmores and lawnmowers and rusted
Murphy beds in tow.
The coal fires glow, corn stalks above the hearth and NPR radio
Reporting on the prophecies of Mayan doom.
Have I explained that they're living in these ruins,
And don't really like them referred to as ruins?
But if we pay $50 for a Kaching-ha Doll, we can call it
Whatever we want. Some of these ruins, she explained,
Have been re-built, she can't tell which ones are new herself
(She whose family has lived in this spot at least since
Mohammed was an altar boy, and probably pre-Sumeria),
They have all crystallized into house-dom, in her language.
The basketball hoops, on the other hand, are recent,
Though they can only be used when the F-150 is not there.

She was the elder we were looking for, pouring corn kernels in a dish,
The one who could tell us how the beginning and the end are one
And the same, the needle through manifestation's loop.
She was once a Hopi princess, with cheekbones high as the plains,
Polynesian eyes, a forehead like a mitre, and black translucent hair.
Now her face is like the Kachina Points, a cliffside library of alchemy
In ancient profile, shrugging off the sand. She smiles,
Says we're welcome to tour the village.