Verse of the Shallow Sea

after Blaise Cendrars
I was on an island north-east of Djawa
separated by a shallow sea

from four hundred species of bird
five thousand species of orchid
and the lava-coated soil
of the cones
of one hundred and twelve volcanoes.

I had left the weaving, and silverwork
and dusty selling of tiles
to the pedlars on the sidewalks.

There were too many
becaks
and helicaks

too much sunstroke
and leprosy

too many miles of roads going nowhere

and I couldn't remember…

only the ferry
the tide
and the white heat
of the sky.

page 155

I pounded the earth with a stone
and lashed the roof with the fibre
of a coconut palm.

The villagers brought me the red bill
of a grain sparrow, in a cage
and buried the head of a bull
outside a door, in my honour.

They taught me their traditions—
rice
clouds

the extravagant language of puppets

and although I planted kaypok
and understood the significance of
grating
pressing
and heating the roots
of the tuberous cassava tree
I needed more.

I needed more
than the incantation of the salat
the inflorescence of sago palms

and terraces which went as far as the water allowed.

The mosque
and the elementary school
and the children who roamed the network of paths
in the village
were not enough for me.

The social pattern was too simple.
I was more than two lifetimes away
page 156 from the horns and feathers
of the headresses,
and the slow use of
hands
fingers
and eyes.

I was on an island north-east of Djawa
and I couldn't go back
that far.

I became a hunter and collector
in the undergrowth
of the uneven surface
of the rainforest

running
fluttering
swinging

and although I couldn't yet fly
I sang with the clear voice
of a bird
concealed myself in a vine

and climbed all but the tallest tree.

I ate nuts from the beaks of parrots
browsed on the roots of saplings
drank rain intercepted by leaves

watched the face of the world's largest flower.

I lay in the green and white trance
of the shaman
of wood
page 157 stones
and the gliding of flying squirrels

and saw the carefully constructed
futures of termites
bees
and land leeches
move silently past me.

But it was not enough.

There were no peacocks or tigers

no banana
mango
and corn

no sun on the leaves of the seedlings
or space on the forest floor.

I was on an island north-east of Djawa
in a long long day

separated by a shallow sea

from four hundred species of bird
five thousand species of orchid
and the geologists, seismologists, and aid workers
of the lava-coated soil
of the cones
of one hundred and twelve volcanoes.