HoopDance

Mythical Beasts in the Tea House Garden
Nearly two years ago, I sat in an open air garden tea house with my young guide outside an art museum on Bali, tropical island of magic, mystery, and romance. That morning had been an amazing encounter with Balinese witches, dragons, mythical beasts, and the eternal struggle between good and evil, in costumed dances accompanied by haunting gamelan music. (Read on …)

Without toilets or rent or comfort,
using this simple triangle the artist
chooses to sacrifice.

She stabs herself.
Blood traces the acute angles.
Afterward she cleams the blade in the dirt.

And the ground echoes her idea.
She commits pain to print.
When it comes home dog-eared and rejected

She turns farmer,
learns how to follow exact directions,
votes in a fascist for president,

Lays down righteousness in straight furrows.
She keeps patience
stretched tight between fresh cut poles

Learns to equate a carrot with the seasons,
and dries her logic in the sun.
She learns how to mash stars into turnips,

Climb the long green strings
of the beanstalk beyond weeds
and come to nothing.

©1999 Val Morehouse. All rights reserved.

© Val Morehouse, November 2006. All Rights Reserved