PILLARS OF THE TROPICAL WORLD
for Victor
C. Pellegrino and W. S. Merwin
The produce stand by the side entrance
to the restored plantation site, wood framed,
covered roof, displays coconut, papaya, mangoes
on center island surrounded by pineapple
and organic watermelons, and that intense,
pungent smell of ripening fruit. Customers
add credibility for tourists. Tiny bottles
of salsa with sea salt, macademia nuts
and dried fruit. Small bags of dried
sweet taro make me an outsider.
Opposite the cashier, in the corner
on the bottom shelf, under plastic,
Poems From A Farmer, Victor C. Pellegrino,
with his photo in t-shirt, arms full
of harvest. Being the only book
in the market, statement made.
Here on family vacation,
invited father-grandpa
learning my ropes from the side,
never a fast learner.
I have come to Hawaii as a guest.
I am here on probation.
Visiting The Plantation, a shut-down sugar mill
turned souvineer farm for tourists
after the tour I walk through the store
of shirts and jewelry staying close
to grandkids, I photograph the historical
with my IPhone, noting ownership's nod
to globalization as cause for closure,
old photos of workers and their faces,
find myself alone, drawn to the produce stand
separate from the plantation.
Wood-framed, rural, in contrast, rustic
roof, inside display of coconut, papaya, mango
on center island, pungent in the nose, coconut
milk-filled water loaded, around the island
commercial products, salsa with sea salt and lime,
macademia nuts, corn and watermelon.
In one corner, on bottom shelf, a paperback
book of poems, Victor C. Pellegrino,
Poems From A Farmer, his photo on cover.
Victor Pellegrino dedicates his work
to seven grandchildren, naming them.
He has immersed himself in language
with a 2-page Hawaiian Glossary at the back
helps me, as well as locals, get closer
to all that comes organic, not explanation,
in the poems. Who has planted Taro? he asks.
Once there were 300 varieties. 80 remain.
One tastes like popcorn he writes,
40 grow on his No'ho'ana farm.
Weeding, he makes contact wandering,
...with thoughts/ I
would not have thought/
And emptied my mind of
thoughts/
I need not have
thought. He writes
to what he grows. Taro, Kalo, Tomatoes.
Books in backpack don't determine
the journey, however. The books
know they're there in the same way
Pellegrino's tomatoes know he loves them,
that his hands carry words. The man
carrying books in his backpack
knows too. They're back there.
There for the rescue times,
books carry their own wariness,
weary too of the bag they're in,
with the water bottle and sunscreen,
the bag of mixed nuts. And these,
The Essential Poems of W. S. Merwin,
Alexandra Popoff's biography
of Vasily Grossman, The Soviet Century--
beach reading? Will that mask hold?
Italian-American, Pellegrino gardens
(orto in Italian) named his garden Noho'ana,
Way of Life, on his family's kuleana land.
His wife, Maui-born, Wailuku-raised,
Wallette, have been in Maui since 1967.
These poems just come to me
he tells Catherine Kenar at Maui News.
He and Wallette, beloved,
built their home in 1968.
Pellegrino is good.
He is that good. That important.
He is what is unmerited in me.
He rescues the books in the backpack.
Yesterday, a day away from family,
my wife and I took public transportation South
traveling to Ha'iku, end stop for Merwin's Conservancy,
where Paula picked up the mail. One day a month,
on Maui, the Conservancy is open to the public.
We are here on that day, a month too-late
for our application to get us inline. Merwin
has restored the palms
from a ruined pineapple plantation,
...see how they wake
without a question
even though the whole
world is burning
The sun is out. It isn't raining.
At the post office, the post master
takes post cards Karen made from our images
covered with new frog stamps
with hastily written haikus for friends,
and hand stamps them, saying Paula
always asked about his kids
picking up the mail.
I have come to Hawaii for the poem.
Pellegrino mirrors Merwin
and Merwin mirrows Pellegrino.
This has nothing to do with merit
or who was here first.
Or even did they know each other?
There are seven consonants in the Hawaiian language,
H, K, L, M, N, P, W,
and the same five vowels as in English.
Pellegrino provides a two-page glossary
at the end of his book. Merwin
wrote 50 books, a translator
whose poems travel the world translated.
From the shelves of produce stands
their work remains, planted trees, planted taro.
Jim Bodeen
Maui-Oahu
August, 2019
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