by Steven Beauchamp
Arcing out of the black Pacific sky
like a falling star banking due south
over Brisbane just as the sun rose
on the other side of the world,
we saw the primeval canvas of Australia
spread out toward Sydney in a swirling vision
of rolling eucalyptus mountains,
black snakes of water slithering
into valleys of fire. Then the deep blue
and gray rocks of the harbor lapping
fields with row upon row of runways
planted with planes.
Later in Canberra we saw such things again
hanging on museum walls.
Concentric circles and squares in earth tones,
horseshoe people with stick spears,
red blossoms like blood cells running through
blue veins, sperm cells mingling with salamanders,
fish, and kangaroos.
We heard tales of the ancient ones astral projecting
riding thermal waves with aerial eyes.
These visions guiding hand and brush,
brain cells becoming pixels,
fractal nerves illuminating form.
Jackson Pollack flung house paints with sticks and paddles
layer upon layer but could not escape
the Aboriginal Mother of all art.
The ancient ones never tried
but embraced her with arms like boab limbs
the wind and rain and sun
from which all things come.
Steven Beauchamp has published 95 poems in journals and reviews across the US and in Canada. These include Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, The California Poetry Journal, and The Eclectic Muse.