In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

56 The Shaman Palpates Her/My Body with Voices Surround me/her with fermented whales, shaman holler and pound the bones on a drum. The fat covered membrane like a crystal ball reveals the willows feed off toxic sea berries, reveals the crack in the ice for the hunters to avoid the trapline. The shamans use mortar-filled skin over the brain skull to help drown their murmured voices. She/I lie/s awake. And asleep, but jostled, she/I gouge/s tracks in the snow like hind legs of caribou who thrust at the earth. The shamans grind white fish liver into paste, covering their foreheads to their chins. Start palpating. They formed through the mouths spikes of cream flowers, red roots sink and smear their hum. They wrap cartilage around the jawbone like baleen, so she/I might come to know our songs: pale to the grave. ...

Share