of jann Whiting Subiaco
ON A WAY TO TAMALPIUS
Could touch without touching
Would know without knowing
A feeling in the darker shadows
Amongst the trees
..... where El Diablo was floating
....and Muir Woods were growing
Mill Valley, CA 1969
THE INNER GHANGA
Symbolizing... symbolic...lost in the imagery by the force of the Ghanges
On a fine silk beach bathed in resistant boulders...under the Himalaya
Near a dialectic conjunction on the river...an antipode of rational
You are the moment...this day...this season...can you be a river...are you water?
Washing thru thoughts...declaring to readers...was that me...seeking knowledge
An escape from boredom...EASIER...having a cool swim in crystal waters
From rain forest mountains...toward blind dolphins...
than tossing ontology with prose...onto Mother Ghanga
Had seen rocky shadows...thru trees...verdant banks...upper Ghanges...meditating...sacred caves hidden
A path cascading sound...above a rippling river...leading to solitude...madness...to higher temples
Here now seated...so still by that flow...floating that sea...of tranquility
Dreaming wooden ships...azure depths...pristine snows...Khalash's summit
Would thirst for Ghanga...in knowledge of jungles...drinking the river...swallowing ashrams...monkeys and holy men
Confronting these waters...the forces...the notion
Ripples of sun danced silver...liquid melting matter...an inner cosmic ocean.
Rishikesh 1978
Whale Beach 1986
Burringbar 2008
POEM FOR AN AQUATIC MAN
An aboriginal man appeared one day...looking for an aquatic brother
Appearing and reappearing...thru formidable flowers...a Gymean Lily
Watery eyes shining...a primal knowledge...a bearded leviathan
Cast upon the shell white sands...a Palm Beach shore
Bringing xhantharias and lilies...the view swept verandah
I thought then...the distant Lion Island should belong to his mob
Giving wonders to fairy penguins and Broken Bay...broken eventually when the English arrived
Not far of the left...Good Vibes painted the Lion...Sally fed her pea fowl
Amidst the flurry...brush strokes and cackles...they too would understand this Island request
Burnhum Burnhum stood stoically...the immaculate blue of Barrenjoey...Hawkesbury silver
Great Ozzie bouquet in hand...Lion Island floating...above his smile
Whilst below...waves crashed in...sails were furled...distant gold and salted wind
Mate...it was all his...in my moments mind...someone dropped from a wave at Margaret River
The vastness of the oceans flowed from passing Humpbacks...to Burnhum's totem...to painted caves and rocks
Somewhere the mist of lands illusion...this land appeared...this land of Oz...red deserts of inland seas
Green wonders of ancient forest...and nomadic tribes...surrounding inducing...a time of Brahman
A love of this ocean's man...should be magnanimous...claming lion Island...and yes, toss in in all of Broken Bay and perhaps NSW
Instead....he later claimed England
But Burnhum had again vanished...and my mind faltered...wandering away to territorial wars and the felling of Australia's forests
I should have gone chasing...grass trees for him.
Palm Beach, NSW 1982
