sprigs of
rosemary
on the embers
of last night's campfire
sweet smoke mingles
with the mountains' mist
Maui
demi god
Maui
suspends the sun
above the crater.....
on the edge of wonder
the new day stands still
Free Verse
Magic
sweet
smelling
white tobacco
the magic of three puffs
one in prayer
another for intentions
the last a thank you
a cup of black medicine
a blessing and a poem
an old timer's empty bottle
refilled from the vat
of fresh fruit juices....
God has turned to wine
a Hoe down
on the high hill
Pele has awakened
we sing to her
Brimstone
on the sixth
day
of the six month
in the sixth year
in the twenty first century
I met the devil
in the laundry room
not only were his shorts dirty
but his mouth
short circuited
and his finger shook
in a rage
of his own making
his static still clings
cloying me back
to that day...
this smell
of fabric softener
and brimstone
Pathway of
the Gods
Kealekekua
Bay
Houses swept a way
by the force of a wave
houses lean rubbish strewn
the beach boy's house
that people rented
to swim with the dolphins
a twist of Karma...
now the dolphins
swim in it
under the roof
floating in the bay
the sea captain's
donkey is safe
his canoe on the ocean
turns away from the shoreline
searching for safe passage
but he's not there to guide it
Kyaks for the tourist
floating tossed by the sea
the dolphins play
the ocean—she
gives
and she takes away
Pele
is all wet
a dark storm
has settled
in the high places
dripping down
smothering the breath
heart pounding
water seeking its own level
smothering even Pele
she smolders
and spews dark ash
radioactive particles
pushed higher
into the stratosphere
no match for Pele
and her radiant glow
Haiku
wind rattles
the iron roof
the old ones shudder
