Kerguelen Land

Kerguelen Land

 

I came destitute, desolate, and alone
to Kerguelen Land

the rocky wind beneath me
hiding in a cliff face far above the surging sea
in the guano-infested mountain heights
of a splendorous infernal kingdom
a sanctuary for fugitive dreams
and stoic salt-whipped seabirds
penguins dancing in the cold wash
lightning above the plutonic peaks
somewhere near the whispering edge
of Péninsule Rallier du Baty
my soul is floating up and down currents
of tides unknown yet strangely
homeward tending

I saw her in a cold summer
in a dress red and gleaming
her music fell upon the mount
a distant elven tune
her name was spelled in the cloudbank
that loomed over Notre-Dame des Vents
of all volcanoes in France
she was the most beautiful

I was lost, adrift, and alone
ere I came to Kerguelen Land

in the ballroom I saw her despair
her elegance transported her
to the utmost heights of tragedy
she danced to a pure and noble sigh
among the cold blue stars
that glittered above Golfe du Morbihan
on that twinkling dark romantic eve
when ideals crashed down upon
the ragged rocks of Pic du Grand-Ross
a dreamless night ensued

cold and bleak and drear was I
ere I set foot in Kerguelen Land

I searched the frigid wastes
haunted by reindeer and solitude
she disappeared among the rocks
of the Île aux Rennes
her song drifted on the winds
a ghostly somnolence prevailed
before her eyes were seen again
brilliant beauteous and beatific
radiant in the twilight
that settled on the loveless shores
of Baie de l’Oiseau

I saw her in a cold summer
her elegance glittered evermore
lifting her higher than Mont Ross
she, like a misplaced Marie Antoinette
longed for her true homeland
a place of fabulous gorgeousness
ornate baroque and inspired
far from these Desolation Islands
and the abandoned Port Couvreux
on the Baie du Hillsborough

a wanderer, a drifter, a dreamer was I
ere I caught sight of Kerguelen Land

we had dined auspiciously together
in the vicinity of Port Jeanne d’Arc
at a lesser known house of lovemaking
we had watched stars fall into the sea
on the Presqu’île de la Société de Géographie
the dimming sky bled purple
as the sun vanished from mortal sight
bathed in the green cold icy wash
of the Golfe des Baleiniers

her cheek kissed by the empty atmosphere
her eyes awash in endless night
we made congress in the volcano-plutonic complex
of the galeswept Rallier du Baty
amid the fossilized remains of araucarians
which beautified this land some million years before
now among the moss and lichens
the lonesome rabbits and sheep
that dot the hills and silent vales
our eyes, not seeing, touched

a hoper, a believer, a romantic was I
ere I lay down in Kerguelen Land

there is a place in La Grande Terre
where costume balls are held
in libraries of long forgotten books
volumes of ancient lore turned to dust
where women still wear hoop skirts
tall wigs and rococo evening gowns
bathed in violet perfumes
it is not far from Anse Betsy
they serve a dainty dish
of boiled Kerguelen cabbage
a rabbit pate and seabird stew
then the comtesses and quaintrelles dance
to the music of philosophers
like Schopenhauer and Spinoza
clockwork mannequins pretty and proud
and marvelous to behold

deep below the surface of the salted sea
lies the sunken continent, the Kerguelen Plateau
a land of lost and terrible dreams
of wisdom never to be known again
in the sad history of the world
I lay in a white bed watching television
in a land’s end hotel
somewhere near the landing site
of the famed Boisguehenneuc
reports of geologic research
and the latest in women’s undergarments
fill the airwaves, cold and blue and lonely
in the night air, the despairing stars
the penguin-populated beaches
of Les Terres australes et antarctiques françaises

what can lovelorn time tell me
in Kerguelen Land?

what can the empty spaces teach
in Kerguelen Land?

I must bid my adieu to the land of Desolation
where beauty, once seen, was not seen again
where love, once felt, was lost upon the sea
the cold and blue and breaking ocean
on the bleak rocks and icy waters
the guano-infested mountain heights
the caves where I dwelled like a troglodyte
hoping and watching in vain
for a ship to come to shore
tormented by dreams of elegance
of cold summers
when beauty was glimpsed, never had
and lost

I departed destitute, desolate, and alone
from Kerguelen Land





Steven Holland
July 23, 2012