Poem of Bali - O Sad and Sweet Eyes of Mine

Poem of Bali

I
Hor-i-zone

Kites tied to a sand field,

the sea beckons, leave and wonder...
long tails of red and black,
Children pulling, directing the life line
of music falling to the ground.

The sun at hor-i-zone

people gather at piers of receding water
wading into sea shadow, mud and weed
out there into deep lost tide.
Here on land of safe mind
I sit on ragged white stones
gulping noodle mush ball soup
forgetting time, memory,
my life of luck and dream.
A slop of fear rising from deep purple shadow
skims my face, is it just the wind music
of red and black kites,
or am I really going to die?

The sun's firetips lose grasp

of the hor-i-zone
the boys face it holding long poles
angling for happiness and livelihood.
Big ol' fish, do they think down there

in the dark liquid peace, do they know that I know
that kites dusk dancing in faded blue space
is the dream of fish and bird

and me?

The man bathed in fading hor-i-zone orange

ladling soup into ceramic bowls for
the last time before the kites disappear
the land ceases the sea waving dark
until the next tide-out
takes my bowl and money and fears
but I can keep my eyes feet hands life.

II
Canvas

In this dream life of mind silky rough-edged

faces appear phantoms murked in deeds of
dark and light
sometimes I can't look, don't want to
reading all that life and anti-life.
A painter's landscape or a drooping sad sky
ok, yes
but eyes contain all the fibers of life
pains joys hates desires
I can't look, don't want to
see the smiles
moistened lips white teeth
the grinning ecstasy of breath
too many realities mixed
upon the brown wrinkled earth
while the painter takes his lunch.

Hello, please, come here and speak

of life and anti-life
spin a tale of laughter and woe
don't leave me alone
in the empty white space
of my canvas
sometimes I can't look, don't want to
read that last page of book
saying goodbye to all of the faces, to discover
The End.

III
Temples

Sculptures of rock flesh wood

pass quickly on the run
between solid black temples of north and south.
I sweat smile hear the sea slam
breaking my visions into pieces covered in
frothy salt weed water.

Blood and muscle ache, strive, escape the

fires of hell and heaven, the only thing moving
is forward, frantic motion of legs arms heart
soaked in stinging drops of sweat.
Heavy air and heat grabbed and devoured
like a sensual woman a body charged magnetic
with SEX.

The temples, black blocks of stone

steeped in emptiness
power in the silent pauses
the places I seek run meditate
on light and high sun
of day health joy.
Upon faded and worn steps
where people do not go
birds and bats,
roosters and toads
await the arrival
of the sound of my strong step
the exhalation of wonder
the vanquishing of time -
Rapture.

17 Photographs of 1 Balinese Sunset