Enroute to Kauai'i
CO2 rolls out of the air conditioners
Stewardess says, Don't worry.
It's only a crossfire.
rough fabric of ocean
warp and weft of cross currents
on the sea, whitecap lint.
mynah birds and Indian doves at my feet
plumeria, pikake, and jasmine
warm rains, blue on blue, mother of oceans
and the fish make fire opals
seem dull by comparison.
8/5/84
SOUTHERN CROSS
It's hard to rearrange the stars
of the Southern Cross
to make them fit in my mind.
At the Tropic of Cancer,
CO2 rolls out of the air conditioners
Stewardess says, Don't worry.
It's only a crossfire.
rough fabric of ocean
warp and weft of cross currents
on the sea, whitecap lint.
mynah birds and Indian doves at my feet
plumeria, pikake, and jasmine
warm rains, blue on blue, mother of oceans
and the fish make fire opals
seem dull by comparison.
8/5/84
SOUTHERN CROSS
It's hard to rearrange the stars
of the Southern Cross
to make them fit in my mind.
At the Tropic of Cancer,
I align the planets
and lose my way along the constellations
Where is north? The Big Dipper?
The stars of the Northern hemisphere,
their indelible location,
and lose my way along the constellations
Where is north? The Big Dipper?
The stars of the Northern hemisphere,
their indelible location,
hardwired as breathing,
have gone and moved on me.
8/5/84
rev. slightly 12/4/15
IRONWOOD
Ironwood cones brace my feet
their litter needling this shore
to be an adult, is to realize
the dreams of childhood
Ironwood trees, the South Pacific.
all those things learned in geography books
At 12, I was ready for the stars
of the Southern Cross
At 31, I'm almost there.
Will I ever see them directly overhead
instead of at an oblique angle?
ISLAND IN THE STREAM
Kawai'i. I keep thinking how this place
looks so much like the South Pacific,
the banana leaves, hibiscus, coco palms,
and the rain on the tin roof shacks.
I have to keep reminding myself
but this IS the South Pacific.
have gone and moved on me.
8/5/84
rev. slightly 12/4/15
IRONWOOD
Ironwood cones brace my feet
their litter needling this shore
to be an adult, is to realize
the dreams of childhood
Ironwood trees, the South Pacific.
all those things learned in geography books
At 12, I was ready for the stars
of the Southern Cross
At 31, I'm almost there.
Will I ever see them directly overhead
instead of at an oblique angle?
8/5/84
ISLAND IN THE STREAM
Kawai'i. I keep thinking how this place
looks so much like the South Pacific,
the banana leaves, hibiscus, coco palms,
and the rain on the tin roof shacks.
I have to keep reminding myself
but this IS the South Pacific.
8/5/84
NA PALI VALLEY
What can I say
after flying through the valley
of the lost tribe? Honopu Valley.
There is nothing to compare with this.
I am forever losing my way in sleep
to return to this valley, this place,
a place I've never been to before.
MT WAI'ALE'ALE
Entering inside the crater
of Mt Wai'ale'ale, Kauai
there is no time,
only the verdant walls
where white ribbons splash down
the mountain flanks
and etch the curve of the caldera
The summit wears a continual raincap
sheaves of hoary white hair
Pools carved eyelets on the mountain
The ocean is hammering the reef
All that suspended salt wanting water
Pele's hair covered the mountain
when she left to stoke the fires
of the Big Island.
POLYNESIAN PARALYSIS
In the hotel I am meeting no one
but the shopkeepers all swap tales
of homeland and journey.
Traveling alone, feeling safe
no need for more of the same
A watercolor artist at the zoo fence
and I lefthandedly discuss right brain theories
redefining the role of discipline and art.
I came here to write
so far, it's all rubbish
but I'm collecting so much data
I feel viscerally ill after each day
I keep losing camera, keys, wallet,
camera bag, and am non-plussed
Polynesian paralysis takes hold while you sleep,
stealthily slips in like an errant lover
into your waiting arms.
What can I say
after flying through the valley
of the lost tribe? Honopu Valley.
There is nothing to compare with this.
I am forever losing my way in sleep
to return to this valley, this place,
a place I've never been to before.
8/5/84
MT WAI'ALE'ALE
Entering inside the crater
of Mt Wai'ale'ale, Kauai
there is no time,
only the verdant walls
where white ribbons splash down
the mountain flanks
and etch the curve of the caldera
The summit wears a continual raincap
sheaves of hoary white hair
Pools carved eyelets on the mountain
The ocean is hammering the reef
All that suspended salt wanting water
Pele's hair covered the mountain
when she left to stoke the fires
of the Big Island.
8/5/84
In the hotel I am meeting no one
but the shopkeepers all swap tales
of homeland and journey.
Traveling alone, feeling safe
no need for more of the same
A watercolor artist at the zoo fence
and I lefthandedly discuss right brain theories
redefining the role of discipline and art.
I came here to write
so far, it's all rubbish
but I'm collecting so much data
I feel viscerally ill after each day
I keep losing camera, keys, wallet,
camera bag, and am non-plussed
Polynesian paralysis takes hold while you sleep,
stealthily slips in like an errant lover
into your waiting arms.
8/5/84
I will need to redo these photos, they're slide prints from a proofhseet, which has degraded.
I will need to redo these photos, they're slide prints from a proofhseet, which has degraded.
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