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    On the Road to Dharamsala
    On the Road to Dharamsala
    On the Road to Dharamsala
    Ebook73 pages19 minutes

    On the Road to Dharamsala

    By John Moncure Wetterau

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Clear beautiful poems that take you to The Big Island of Hawaii, Dharamsala, India, and the coast of Maine. The author works in the manner of a painter trying to present a scene while, at the same time, discovering what is special about it. The best writing holds its energy for a long time. These outer and inner landscapes can be seen and felt over and over.
    The author writes, "Dharamsala is in northern India, where the Himalayan massif feeds high fertile valleys and where many Tibetans are rebuilding their lives. It was a privilege to live there, learning from so many generous spirits. India is dirty, dangerous, cheap, gorgeous, crowded, and intensely human; it reveals you to yourself. Thanks for reading these poems, for being there, too."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJohn Moncure Wetterau
    Release dateJan 22, 2013
    ISBN9781301571765
    On the Road to Dharamsala
    Author

    John Moncure Wetterau

    Born in Greenwich Village, New York City, but raised, mostly, by my grandparents in Woodstock, a small town in the Catskill mountains. Midway through sophomore year at Hamilton College, an inner voice said, "Get out!" It seemed crazy, but I knew it was the right thing to do. A fraternity brother told me I'd have no trouble finding work on the shrimp boats in Key West. A friend and I hitchhiked south. Near the New Jersey line we got a ride with another young guy, Pete. "Where you headed?" "Florida." "Me, too." He told us that he'd gotten up before dawn in a small Vermont town, thrown clothes and a baseball glove in the trunk, left a note on his girlfriend's porch, and taken off. We rocked on down the coast, listening to Brenda Lee, getting warmer each day. I left my friends near Miami and went on to Key West. When I got there, I walked to the harbor and asked for a job on the first boat I found that had anyone on board. The captain said, "Shrimp season's over, kid." I think he felt sorry for me. He pointed to a rusty shrimper across the water. "He might take you." I picked up my bag and ran around to the other jetty, arriving just as the boat began to pull away. A man on deck was doing something with a cable. He wore a sweatshirt and had a two-day growth. "I'm looking for work," I shouted over the engine. "You a winch man?" The winch occupied a large part of the deck, a complicated assembly of giant gears and levers. The strip of water below my feet widened. It was jump or forget it. I had a vision of winching the boat upside down in the Gulf. I shook my head and walked to the Southern Cross Hotel, a wooden building with white peeling paint and a sign declaring, The Southernmost Hotel in the United States. I wrote it down in a notebook and have been writing ever since. Along the way I served in the Air Force, earned a degree in computer science from the University of Hawaii, married twice, and raised children. The adventures, the loves and betrayals, the teachers, the lessons---they are in my stories and poems, where, like all writers, I have tried to make of my deeper bio something worthwhile.

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      Book preview

      On the Road to Dharamsala - John Moncure Wetterau

      untitled

      remnant of cane

      at roadside,

      segmented, pale yellow,

      curving up,

      long sharp leaves

      tossing in rain shower,

      green calligraphy

      on a gray sky:

      here, now,

      changing

      Kohala,

      Big Island, Hawaii

      Pu'u Hue

      1

      Climbing toward Pu'u Hue

      the road snakes and wiggles

      through a shaded gulch—

      smell of ginger, flaming red

      lehua blossoms, avocados,

      wild pigs—then: sunny fields,

      higher views of ocean,

      Haleakala across the channel.

      Up a long hill,

      new houses with the old,

      past the Pu'u Mamo turn,

      up and up and out onto

      the western slopes

      of the Kohala Mountains,

      green and gold and brown,

      the grade less steep,

      still climbing toward Pu'u Hue,

      the first cone mauka.

      Past Pu'u Hue,

      the twin tops of Lahikiola,

      Pu'u Lepo makai.

      On to the crest,

      then steeply down to Waimea—

      Mauna Kea, Hualalai,

      Mauna Loa in the sky.

      2

      Bamboo poles drying four months.

      Today: cut three, 32 inches long,

      bottom cuts just below a joint

      for strength.

      Lay them side by side.

      Lash them at the centers

      and twist them

      to a double ended tripod

      wide enough to sit on.

      Stand it upright.

      Tie one cord from top to top,

      limiting the poles

      from spreading farther.

      Hawaiians made rope

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