by S. K. Kelen
S. K. Kelen is an Australian poet who has
been published widely in his own country and overseas.
His books
include Atomic Ballet (1991), Dingo Sky (1993) and Trans-Sumatran
Highway & Other Poems.
He was Visiting Poet at the
University of South Dakota for Spring Semester 1996.
"Trans-Sumatran
Highway" is the title poem of his latest book which can be ordered
on the web at Australian
Writing Online (AWOL) or direct from the publisher:
Polonius Press
35 Wybalena Grove
COOK ACT 2614
AUSTRALIA
Shared mountains & roadside
attractions
Quilt the scenery. Houses float in prairie haze
Warm to
their cousins the trees who,
Undressing, begin their Fall embrace.
The line down the centre of the
road
Goes round the world.
Looking out at the smiling crowd
They
love the land they cultivate,
And they love what I am doing
for this State.
I've done bad & I've done good
The champion, a
minor curse
Who hopes to be a blessing.
History gives so much worse -
Abominations at the centre
Sicker than sin and more holy -
Today
there are still chancres
Erupting from this world
Creating the lowest common denominator
But any politician worth his salt
Lets scum become entertainment.
Razzmatazz, loyal constituents
cheer
And wave cowboy hats. Only the losers
Heckle me, me-----first
citizen and law------
Rough as guts, sure and the things I done
Are legends like these hills
And now it is I who confer or condemn,
To tighten and loosen the belt at
will.
I smash the champagne bottle, follow
A young squaw, awed and
genuflecting.
She lifts the marquee's canvas flap
Where the county's
prize produce is on display
She is so terribly young, almost a child.
There's a scent of clay mixed
with grass
And suddenly those voters are far away.
The young Indian
girl's shyness .
We all have our diabolical moments.
Mine have a home
Down at
the river those years ago
A cocky graduate with a career
In mind,
bush-bashing
In a pick-up truck
Loaded
with fraternity beer & liquor
And there she is, on her own
At the
river doing chores or something.
She is fragrant beyond the earth
And svelte------the fork of a stripling tree
A woman waiting.
The clay I taste
intoxicates with girl
Smells of river, grass and leaves
Slow to her
delta.
Why do they call you White
Deer,
The next thing she's in the front seat
& her sobs make me
mad .
Gary Puckett songs hum in
my head
Like a recurring childhood
-----Young Girl get out of my
mind-----
Over and over , those
damned dreadful songs
Never leave, always ringing up,
Playing every
where.
But when White Deer & I
joined
The spirit of Crazy Horse entered me
And the land became my
responsibility.
On this day of plenty
It's
top hats and epaulettes
The mansion and no apologies.
Crazy Horse, the great warrior,
I have his eagle feather
Locked in the safe with a letter
In Crazy Horse's hand.
Now
I've found peace the country
Is fecund, a true cornucopia
And White Deer and the witnesses
Have gone to the meet their ancestors.
Miss Prissy handing out
leaflets at the function
Sees the gleam and appreciates.
Taking the microphone
I named the park "White Deer".
