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Thylazine: The Australian Journal of Arts, Ethics & Literature                                                                                                                                    #9/thyla9k-sk AUSTRALIAN POETS SERIES 9 The Poetry of S.K. Kelen Selected by Coral Hull [Above] Photo of S.K. Kelen by Russell Kelen, 2002. I Ba Vi I What Goes Up I The Information Superhighway I Megalong Valley I House of Rats I Coda I Home Thoughts from Abroad I Ba Vi The clouds are always there ringing three peaks busy with lightning & thunder grumbling - the place clouds are born to water the fields and forests of Vietnam. You must be light as air to receive a tree frog's blessing then take the path to the cloud pagoda at the summit of Ba Vi where a nun lives to tend the shrine light incense sticks and burn the ceremonial money arrange flowers left by pilgrims in offering to the clouds. Quiet time, the forest watches over her she meditates clouds until night- sleeps on a cane mat before the sweet altar- the clouds round Ba Vi swirl through the pagoda wrap her in glowing vapour make images of her cloud dreams and if the clouds dream they dream of her. Sunrise, she gathers the flowers left by day-tripping pilgrims and throws them to the clouds. Published in Shimmerings (Five Islands Press, Australia, 2000). What Goes Up What Goes Up Frontier spirit hardy enough to make it through the toughest landscapes, he thinks, sticking another swastika to the Spitfire's side. Circling in and there's his orange- - headed friend strapping himself to the top of the City's tower to get a better view and sing the frontier spirit. Look: on the plains the houses are wheel-less wagon trains & in Broken Hill a couple happily married for thirty-odd years quietly cross the road while in Wollongong a small black dog races across the road then scratches its ear. All over Australia roads are traversed. Fantastic . . . the Bodalla apothecary checks his watch & locks the shop, a woman comes glowing from Bondi's surf as a young man splashes open a beercan a tennis ball is served. An electrician's van pulls out of a sunlit driveway but jolts to a stop its back door kicked open from the inside, a huge white horse gallops out into the park someone is trying not to dream at 7 o'clock dinner is on the table getting cold framed by twilight but we're in the pub listening to all this just when a yacht's spinnaker billows a tulip girl skates on an irrigation canal Woof! up go the balloons & the Spitfire flies out of the sun. Published in Atomic Ballet (Hale & Iremonger, Australia, 1991). The Information Superhighway is a sewer pipe from America it's staying home forever and falling in love with a computer. It's the story of Hardware Man & Software Girl setting off together on a kitchen adventure. It's staying home forever: push a button & a remote controlled custard pie flies in the video compere's eyes. "Interactive" is when you get to spit back. My house is a city state. Outdoors there's a weird fog I don't want to go out in. Forests are flattened to fuel computer factories, the trees are routed once & for all. When the last tiger in the wild died the tigers in the zoo just vanished Published in Trans-Sumatran Higwhay & other poems (Polonius, Australia, 1995). Megalong Valley The gods banned machines from ever entering the last pure tract of Megalong. Here, even bracken's picturesque & the whipbird, breathless with the beauty of it all is silent, reverential. There's a waterfall you walk under that splashes a rainbow that's always there and will be until the earth or sun shifts sandstone cliffs, a kookaburra laughs from gorgeous gloom up & down, up & down. Published in Trans-Sumatran Higwhay & other poems (Polonius, Australia, 1995) House of Rats They're up there, all right, In the roof playing scrabble, listening to Scratchy old Fats Waller records. They started out as a gang of desperadoes Escaped from a laboratory, Arrived via a garbage truck Up overhanging tree branches Elbowed their way in & soon The colony is an empire of rats Who eat the insulation batts Chew wires, through the ceiling To ransack the kitchen Take bites out of everything & carry off furniture. I can hear them Scurrying with bits & pieces, hammering & sawing: They're building houses - a model rat town - with Imitation garages to park stolen toy cars in. After munching another box of double strength poison The rats are back at work with a vengeance, thump Around the rafters insulating the house with rat shit. Or hard at love writhing, squealing Like sick starlings or kicked puppies. The weaker explode And TV screens fill with rats' blood but there's More where they came from. Teeming over Mountains, through valleys, jamming highways, falling Off bridges to scurry ashore up storm water drains. Exterminators arrive dressed as astronauts and poison The house for ten thousand years. It's time to move out. But the rats have laid eggs in your pockets, stow Away, follow you from house to house. The curse enters its exponential phase. Tentacles unwind from the ceiling, dirty great moths And leopard slugs take over your happy home. Soon you are a trellis. That's just what the rats say. I'm down here listening to radio messages, Oiling automatic weapons, building rockets. Living in a rat's belly. Published in Shimmerings (Five Islands Press, Australia, 2000). Coda It's cool listening to Miles Davis trumpet playing 'Bye, bye Blackbird' on that great . . .Classic Ballads cd though I know outside the world is really suffering oozing with all the bad things humans made and made work, we as a species sacrificed a blue planet and walk through a toxic soup - the System made Creation invisible- demonic thoughts occur a thousand times a day a thousand days a year madness is factored into the way we live, the way work is the greatest drug the way things are is the way things have always been- because humans are a kind of bug the traffic spins- get out of the car and put your hands up come on down, come on down o lucky ones consume, be silent, die but Miles plays trumpet so beautifully he's an angel now and wow jazz that's cool and hot happy and sad draws the world's poison out like sucking a snake bite now the earth is sweet again a breeze blows the leaves in the mind's blossom trees - that's the trick a stereo can play, turn it up loud there's no traffic no other sound & the death work brings to the day is not invited. Published Goddess of Mercy (Brand & Schlesinger, Australia, 2002). Home Thoughts From Abroad Glimpse of rain, River rocks glisten Wing my soul back To one old dreaming site: North Sydney Oval. Palm trees bow in the park And tall cyclone fencing Stops footballs landing on cars Driving up beautiful Cahill Expressway In the richest city of them all And maybe Sydney Harbour Is the world's heart, who can tell? Mile high storm clouds Swell on the north. Cloudburst brakes cars almost to halt From the ferries, harbour bells Ring the long past through the grey. Running from the sea To sit on Chinaman's Beach & accept the breeze. Across the bay is the glowing white dais Built for when Christ comes again Waits for Him to touch down And walk across ocean Step on to Australia, then Joy will rise from Sydney Harbour Heralding a Golden Age, South Pacific The throngs wear hula skirts Sing the Lord's praises. It's like that now - the desert Island's delicious nipple - tranquil, stroppy, tropical. Published in Shimmerings (Five Islands Press, Australia, 2000). About the Poet S.K. Kelen S. K. Kelen's poems have been appearing in journals, newspapers and on radio since 1973. Kelen teaches creative writing and poetry and lives mostly in Canberra. In 1996 Kelen was Visiting Professor of Writing at the University of South Dakota; in 1998 he was Asialink Writer-in-residence in Vietnam; he was the recipient of the ACT Chief Minister's Creative Arts Fellowship for 2000 and the 2001 Capital Arts Patrons Award. S. K. Kelen's published books include The Gods Ash Their Cigarettes, (Makar Press, 1978), To the Heart of the World's Electricity, (Senor, 1980), Atomic Ballet, (Hale & Iremonger, 1991), Dingo Sky, (HarperCollins/Angus&Robertson, 1993), Trans-Sumatran Highway and other poems, (Polonius, 1995), Dragon Rising, (The Gioi, 1998), Shimmerings, (Five Islands Press, 2000), Goddess of Mercy, (Brandl & Schlesinger, 2002). Goddess of Mercy was shortlisted for the Age Poetry Book of the Year, Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards. He is currently living on an Australia Council Grant writing new poems and completing his PhD.    [Above] [Above] Photo of S.K. Kelen by Russell Kelen, 2002. I Next I Back I Exit I Thylazine No.9 (March, 2004)