Robert Hass

The radio clicks on—it’s poor swollen America,
up already and busy selling the exhausting obligation
of happiness while intermittently debating whether or not
a man who kills 50 people in five minutes
with an automatic weapon he has bought for the purpose
is mentally ill. Or a terrorist. Or if terrorists
are mentally ill. Because if killing large numbers of people
with sophisticated weapons is a sign of sickness—
you might want to begin with fire, our early ancestors
drawn to the warmth of it—from lightning,
must have been, the great booming flashes of it
from the sky, the tree shriveled and sizzling,
must have been, an awful power, the odor 
of ozone a god’s breath; or grass fires,
the wind whipping them, the animals stampeding,
furious, driving hard on their haunches from the terror
of it, so that to fashion some campfire of burning wood,
old logs, must have felt like feeding on the crumbs
of the god’s power and they would tell the story 
of Prometheus the thief, and the eagle that feasted
on his liver, told it around a campfire, must have been,
and then—centuries, millennia—some tribe
of meticulous gatherers, some medicine woman,
or craftsman of metal discovered some sands that,
tossed into the fire, burned blue or flared green,
so simple the children could do it, must have been,
or some soft stone rubbed to a powder that tossed
into the fire gave off a white phosphorescent glow.
The word for chemistry from a Greek—some say Arabic—
stem associated with metal work. But it was in China
2,000 years ago that fireworks were invented—
fire and mineral in a confined space to produce power—
they knew already about the power of fire and water
and the power of steam: 100 BC, Julius Caesar’s day.
In Alexandria, a Greek mathematician produced 
a steam-powered turbine engine. Contain, explode.
“The earliest depiction of a gunpowder weapon
is the illustration of a fire-lance on a mid-12th century
silk banner from Dunhuang.” Silk and the Silk Road.
First Arab guns in the early 14th century. The English
used cannons and a siege gun at Calais in 1346.
Cerigna, 1503: the first battle won by the power of rifles
when Spanish “arquebusters” cut down Swiss pikemen
and French cavalry in a battle in southern Italy.
(Explosions of blood and smoke, lead balls tearing open
the flesh of horses and young men, peasants mostly,
farm boys recruited to the armies of their feudal overlords.)
How did guns come to North America? 2014,
One of the ship’s Lombard cannons may have been stolen
by salvage pirates off the Haitian reef where it had sunk.
And Cortes took Mexico with 600 men, 17 horses, 12 cannons.
And LaSalle, 1679, constructed a seven-cannon barque,
Le Griffon, and fired his cannons upon first entering the continent’s
interior. The sky darkened by the terror of the birds.
In the dream time, they are still rising, swarming,
darkening the sky, the chorus of their cries sharpening
as the echo of that first astounding explosion shimmers 
on the waters, the crew blinking at the wind of their wings. 
Springfield Arsenal, 1777. Rock Island Arsenal, 1862.
The original Henry rifle: a 16-shot .44 caliber rimfire
lever-action, breech-loading rifle patented—it was an age
of tinkerers—by one Benjamin Tyler Henry in 1860, 
just in time for the Civil War. Confederate casualties
in battle: about 95,000. Union casualties in battle:
about 110,000. Contain, explode. They were throwing 
sand into the fire, a blue flare, an incandescent green.
The Maxim machine gun, 1914, 400–600 small-caliber rounds
per minute. The deaths in combat, all sides, 1914–1918
was 8,042,189. Someone was counting. Must have been.
They could send things whistling into the air by boiling water.
The children around the fire must have shrieked with delight.
1920: Iraq, the peoples of that place were “restive” 
under British rule and the young Winston Churchill
invented the new policy of “aerial policing” which amounted,
sources say, to bombing civilians and then pacifying them
with ground troops. Which led to the tactic of terrorizing civilian
populations in World War II. Total casualties in that war,
worldwide: soldiers, 21 million; civilians, 27 million.
They were throwing sand into the fire. The ancestor who stole 
lightning from the sky had his guts eaten by an eagle.
Spreadeagled on a rock, the great bird feasting.
They are wondering if he is a terrorist or mentally ill.
London, Dresden. Berlin. Hiroshima, Nagasaki.
The casualties difficult to estimate. Hiroshima:
66,000 dead, 70,000 injured. In a minute. Nagasaki:
39,000 dead, 25,000 injured. There were more people killed, 
100,000, in more terrifying fashion in the firebombing
of Tokyo. Two arms races after the ashes settled.
The other industrial countries couldn’t get there 
fast enough. Contain, burn. One scramble was
for the rocket that delivers the explosion that burns humans
by the tens of thousands and poisons the earth in the process.
They were wondering if the terrorist was crazy. If he was
a terrorist, maybe he was just unhappy. The other
challenge afterwards was how to construct machine guns
a man or a boy could carry: lightweight, compact, easy to assemble.
First a Russian sergeant, a Kalashnikov, clever with guns
built one on a German model. Now the heavy machine gun,
the weapon of European imperialism through which
a few men trained in gunnery could slaughter native armies
in Africa and India and the mountains of Afghanistan,
became “a portable weapon a child can operate.”
The equalizer. So the undergunned Vietnamese insurgents
fought off the greatest army in the world. So the Afghans
fought off the Soviet army using Kalashnikovs the CIA
provided to them. They were throwing powders in the fire
and dancing. Children’s armies in Africa toting AK-47s
that fire 30 rounds a minute. A round is a bullet.
An estimated 500 million firearms on the earth.
One hundred million of them are Kalashnikov-style semi-automatics.
They were dancing in Orlando, in a club. Spring night.
Gay Pride. The relation of the total casualties to the history
of the weapon that sent exploded metal into their bodies—
30 rounds a minute, or 40, is a beautifully made instrument,
and in America you can buy it anywhere—and into the history
of the shaming culture that produced the idea of Gay Pride—
they were mostly young men, they were dancing in a club,
a spring night. The radio clicks on. Green fire. Blue fire.
The immense flocks of terrified birds still rising
in wave after wave above the waters in the dream time.
Crying out sharply as the French ship breasted the vast interior
of the new land. America. A radio clicks on. The Arabs, 
a commentator is saying, require a heavy hand. Dancing.

Kay Bradner, Ten Birds


Many talented individuals are featured in the West Marin Review. Please click below for this volume’s contributors.

    • Kay Bradner   Ten Birds
    • Cathy Rose   Balance
    • Jackie Garcia Mann   Bolinas Bound
    • Michael Sykes   Leaving for Italy
    • Dave Stamey   To Steelhead Lake
    • Joan Thornton   Two Short Stories
    • Barbara Heenan   On Religion: Oklahoma City
    • G. David Miller   Prepare for Landing
    • Kaitlyn Gallagher   The Blows
    • Cynthia Fontaine Reehl   What It Takes
    • Molly Giles   Next Time
    • Paul Strohm   Masculinities
    • Brooke Williams   Post-Election Walkabout
    • Tobi Earnheart-Gold   Untitled
    • Mary Winegarden   Between Birth and Song
    • Ariel Wish   Through Motions
    • Nancy Cherry   All My Biographies Are Lies
    • Stephen Ajay   Giving
    • Karen Benke   Spring Cleaning
    • Lisa Piazza   Here
    • Barry Roth   Henry Evans Poppies
    • Thomas Hickey   Monk’s Empty Eye
    • Satchel Trivelpiece   Oh, Animals
    • David Swain   Dead Reckoning
    • Robert Hass   DANCING
    • Deborah Buchanan   A Bowl’s Circumference
    • Prartho Sereno   Emergency Lock-Down Drill
    • Dave Seter   Douglas Iris
    • Judy Brackett   Swimming Through Summer
    • Gina Cloud   Ken
    • Kay Bradner   Ten Birds
    • Christa Burgoyne   Small Barn and Late Afternoon “C” Street
    • Lissa Nicolaus   Country Road
    • Kimberly Carr Harmon   Wooded Gate
    • Emmeline Craig   Living on the Edge
    • Matthew Polvorosa Kline   Tule Elk at Dawn, Point Reyes National Seashore
    • Elizabeth Gorek   Forgotten Summer
    • Susan Hall   California Twilight
    • Sandy White   Roy’s Redwoods
    • Jaune Evans   Fog Heaven
    • Isis Hockenos   Side Street Chickens #1 & #2
    • Caitlin McCaffrey   Biggie’s Vision
    • Marius Salone and Sofia Borg   Young Red Onions
    • Lily Andrews   Hummingbird
    • Susan Putnam   Untitled #261
    • Amanda Tomlin   Laird’s Boathouse
    • Jani Gillette   You Wearing You
    • Christel Dillbohner   Iridescent Cloud
    • Philip Bone   Three Masks
    • May Ta   Somber Summer
    • Toni Littlejohn   Fire Under Ice
    • Xander Weaver-Scull   Arctic Peregrine Falcons
    • Grace Nichols and Belle Nichols Southworth   Letters from Bolinas
    • Julia Edith Rigby   Waste in Paradise
    • Van Waring   Coastal Cross Section
    • Rich Clarke   Kehoe Morning
    • Johanna Baruch   Enthymesis
    • Michel Venghiattis   Lili Marlene
    • Glenn Carter   Night of the Falling Flower/Lucid N13-2
    • Sherrie Lovler   Crossroads
    • Mary Siedman   Bolinas Beach
    • Jon Ching   Flowers in Her Hair
    • Mark Ropers   Bound for Kilkenney Beach
    • Mary K. Shisler   Wabi Sabi Tulips
    • Richard Kirschman   Bogside Remembered
    • Patricia Connolly   Late Afternoon at McInnis
    • Bob Kubik   Fox
    • Cathy Rose   Accept and Balance
    • Anne Faught   Coming Together