Joy Harjo

The Obvious? relayed a Joy Harjo poem, but I like this one better.

from the back dustjacket of the book


This is how I cut myself open
— with a half pint of whiskey, then
  there’s enough dream to fall through

            to pure bone and shell
            where ocean has carved out

warm sea animals,
                 and has driven the night
                 dark and in me
                        like a labyrinth of knives.

From She Had Some Horses (1983).