From the road 2008

Flores and Sumba Writing and Poetry

 

Breakfast In Flores

a boiled egg
and sweet bread
a pinch of salt and pepper
a steaming glass of coffee
served black
with too much sugar

 

 

 

 

 

 

5 A.M

the early call to prayer
in a christian town
with twin mosques
that compete
one high and melodic
the other deep and threatening
played loud on stretched tape
and crackling speaker
“awake and pray for god is great”
but we are sleeping christians
hung over and still drunk
from drinking our prayers numb
the night before
we screw our eyes
and bury our heads
deep in soft pillows

 

 

 

 

 

All Eyes

all eyes on me
in warm water
flushed with plankton
eyes wide with fear
dart and hide or dive
all eyes on me
a dark shadow
over iridescent forest
and brilliant scale
eyes wide with fear
even the urchin
aligns it spines
against me

 

 

 

 

 

Komodo

we walk the midday heat
along dried river beds
past twisted vine
hanging broken limbs
hear calls of yellow birds
foreign to our ears
we cross a hill
the slight breeze
rattles leaves
of giant palm
sweat fills our eyes
like lost tears
returned
in a shady grove
a buffalo chewing
dull eyed and hopeless
blood stained hide
black with flies
“he is bitten by komodo and will die”
our guide tells
as we pass
down into a gully
with black pools
three big lizard sleeping
buffalo wallow too
here predator and prey
share the same
grey mud

 

 

 

 

 

The Cave Of The Hobbit

in the cave of the hobbit
we send down shafts
in search
and scrape dirt
wash and sift
each pebble and stone
labelled and boxed
and catalogued
but the hobbit is elusive
a wall of sandbags
betrays the futility
of our search
above stalactites drip
drip down on us
for a thousand years
as we dig a new shaft
and fill in the last
and the jungle
creeps in
green and mad

 

 

 

 

 

Home

here is like home
the trees stand apart
clear and open
and shed bark strips
like burned skin
and let the sun fall in
each leaf
reflects and dazzles
and breaks the shadows
blown by whatever
gentle breeze
this forest allows

 

 

 

 

 

Flies

they sit aging lovers
in this place
lonely and forgotten
remote and distant
and talk in her tongue
and spray flies
now he is up
and adjusts drying clothes
under a heavy sky
the clouds black
against a grey void
hiss hiss hiss
the poison she sprays
on the table between them
fly paper
stuck with the dead and dying
hiss hiss
his turn to spray
so this is what becomes of lovers
on this lost and little island
with their halting conversation
and the flies
they kill

 

 

 

 

 

Bamboo

this sweet young girl swings
her bamboo at swiftlets
flying crazy patterns around her
three strikes and one is down
all blue and black and nothing
she holds it broken in her hand
as others spiral from above
beware the bamboo
this sweet young girl swings

 

 

 

 

 

Leaving

leaving home and shack and gate
leaving cat and dog and rake
bridge and tree and riverbank
waterfall and rusting tank

i am leaving on the road i’ve left behind

leaving ocean rock and tar
leaving church and drinking bar
fish and rice on chipped plate
leaving early leaving late

i am leaving on the road i’ve left behind

leaving mosque and black swine
leaving sty and landslide
monsoon rain and paddy mud
skin and flesh and bone and blood

i am leaving on the road i’ve left behind

on this road is all i’ve left behind

on this road is all i’ve left behind

on this road is all i’ve left behind…

 

 

 

 

 

Moni 1

i purchased a python in a sack for a hundred thousand
from smoking boys with machetes
bargaining it down from two hundred and fifty
i carried it back to the hotel
“what is in the sack?” they asked along the way
“naga” i said
“naga” they shouted excitedly to whoever had ears
“what?” pointed the lady with the painted face
as i walked through the hotel gate
“banana” i said to her smile
in my room i untied the sack
and marveled at the patterned scales
green and brown and black
before dawn we rode to the volcano
and watched the sun touch three lakes
of green and brown and black
returning through the rain forest
i released the python from its sack
with flicking tongue it uncurled
and like a slow arrow pierced the jungle shadows
“you have a snake in the box”
the rastaman said pointed at my luggage the next day
“i took it to the jungle and released it, does that make me a crazy man?”
”yes” he said
“well! then i take it to maumere to sell to the chinese for a million”
he grins satisfied for now he knows me

 

 

 

 

 

Moni 2

after a meal prepared in the traditional way
we sat in too small chairs and talked of spirits and power
and how the long dead ancestors act as our guides
he told me of magic charms that turned bullets to water
and other things incomprehensible without witness
while his twin puppies drove the red cat to snarl and claw
from a rough bag he offered old bracelets and worn statues
one caught my eye an old man hands outstretched in prayer
sitting cross-legged on a giant curled snake
his hunched back and intense stare fired my dreams
i returned the next day and bargained for the statue
he told me it was carved by the father
of the oldest man still living in the village
later that day in the transport to maumere
i thought of the python i had purchased on a whim
at the local market and released in the national park of the three lakes
had the snake chosen me to be its savior?
was the snake my guide and had the statue waited these generations
for me to prove my worth?
so i keep this statue close now and anoint his hard lips with vodka gin and beer
and pray for my salvation and wealth and you
and for his service i will guild him in gold

 

 

 

 

 

Twin Volcano's

like twin volcano's
we sit calm quiet
what threat here
just the memory
of violence
ash and smoke
but inside we are torn
we burn and fire
with growing desire
to tear each other down
how we hate each other now
twin volcano's waiting to explode
we will destroy each other soon

 

 

 

 

 

Pero (heaven)

is this where i am to stay
but there is nothing here
a few houses and a mosque
and a home stay
with asylum beds
the frames rusty
the mattresses
sagging and stained
where are the shops
places to eat
a drinking bar
i have some vodka
but that won’t last the night
and how will i get away
there is no transport here
the grass is green
and the beach stretches
long and white from my eye
here none speaks my tongue
and they shake me down and drop me
oh driver turn around
and take me back
i do not belong here
and my vodka
is almost gone

 

 

 

 

 

Wreck

you lie
on your side
in bed
how beautiful
you are
in cool blue
and how many friends
align themselves with you
do they know the damage suffered
what broke you in two
but i must leave you
my dear old enemy
to this shallow grave
and the curious
who pay to
see you

 

 

 

 

 

Journeys End

i see flame trees
stained blood red
against the hillside
a dead dog stalled
on the road
and we are together
the car winds it’s way
up then down
a rooster crows
his feathers rust red
like the blood blooms
flashing above
we sit saying nothing
a boy on a bridge
pushes a pointed stick
into rotten fruit
his skinny mother
holds his baby sister
her crooked teeth
catch the sun
the car pulls to the right
are we there we wonder
beneath the dripping blooms
but the driver cannot hear
oh flame trees and boy
rotten fruit and crooked teeth
dead dog and car door
dripping blood
is this journeys end?

 

 

 

 

 

Temple Dog

the old temple dog
almost hairless
skin of hard leather
scratches the impossible itch
scabs and scars
torn ears and open sores
the sum of a life near the end
those milky eyes have seen changes here
this small fishing village
now a busy port
new money binds these bricks
and bitumen smothers paddy
i took the ferry once
on my first trip
long before development and this old dog
when dreams and ambition
walked hand in hand
but i can remember nothing of it now
what a wreck
what a monstrosity
we become

 

 

 

 

 

Temple dogs

temple dogs run in packs
barking past the station
short snout and powerful jaws
and big balls out the back
they tear each other in fights
all night long
and howl in unison
free to do as they choose
they eat the offerings
left by the devoted
on temple steps
unloved but not hated
i can learn from them
next time you see me
think of them

 

 

 

 

 

Thin

just a thin line
divides
the beauty
of this life
from the security
of its death
i walk across
scattered frangipani
wilting in the sun
but why tiptoe past
the leering stone demon
eyes crazed
umbrella in tatters

 

 

 

 

 

Monkey Forest

mossy green and wet
a grinning demon
with the body of a porn star
watches as we dart about
laughing and whooping and pointing
others look on from the temple steps
teeth flashing and gibbering
we come from all around
how silly we look
pot bellies bulging
bananas falling
ha ha we giggle
from russia
poland
australia
america
we come to feed
the monkeys

 

 

 

 

 

Fat

a fat drop of rain
hits the window
heavy clouds
haunt the mountain
and blind the trees
the truck breaths
black smoke
that curls
in my lungs
pop a wasp
lost to the windscreen
along the way
bamboo alters
leaves curled
pinned fruit
offerings of devotion
and more
people selling fish
goats and buffalo
yellow dogs
motorbikes
school children
roosters
signs and shops
coconuts
beautiful girls
cars and boats
now the driver
winds the window
to hide his precious cargo
"bali police corrupt"
"much corruption bali"
now we are
black shadows
unseen by all

 

 

 

 

 

Crazy

is my driver crazy
he shakes his head
as if insects infest his ears
and wipes his face
incessantly
with fresh tissue
desperate to get this job
his price was good
and so i am his
but he keep scratching
always the same spot
his eyes dart
and he changes gears
with his wrist
my life is in his hands
but who better
to carry me?

 

 

 

 

 

Girl

this girl is beautiful
and she knows it
and pulls her bikini
up high
until it disappears
between fine
tanned buttocks
she blocks the stairway
from the beach
where i must pass
eyes redden
as i approach
locked on
to this perfect form
another step
my tongue lolls
saliva streams spill
across my chest
closer still
my teeth bare
i snarl and snap
at buzzing flies
oh how that
flimsy material
slides and hides
between the divine
i drag my chain and howl
hot blood spills and spurts
and spills more
i offer my snout
my paw
my wagging tail
but then i am past
each step up and away
i walk on as a man
each step as a man

 

 

 

 

Ubud

a big fluffy moth flies down from heaven
sending ceiling geckoes darting for cover
behind the ubud abstract
repeatedly he drives himself into the wall
as if the secret door to salvation is hidden there
now he too is behind the painting
and out the geckoes come
fearful of his size and commotion
they resume their position on the wall
and we all await dinner the moth forgotten
but suddenly he is back
hammering the wall with renewed persistence
a gecko takes a bite and we all look up
the moths head is held in tiny jaws
monstrous wings flapping to each side
will they fly we wonder and to where
a giant moth with a tiny gecko pilot clamped in front
we stop chewing to view this spectacle
then the moth breaks free
leaving his head to the gecko
and fluttering directionless falls to the ground
coming to rest beside the balinese offering tray
of smoking incense petals and rice
dinner is nearly done i empty the bottle
and push my plate aside
a french or german tourist gets up and crosses the room
with a concerned expression on his soft white face
he crushed the headless moth with the toe
of his american sports shoe