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       THE S.A. CONNECTION

Hope you all enjoyed Rod's birthday piece on Frank yesterday - I know I certainly did.

Todays poem is a special one for me - I grew up in Durban and it was in that city that I bought my first McKuen album and attended Rod's concert when he toured this country in 1975. I naturally went to both of the Durban shows! Wonder if he realised that the kid in the second row would one day be running his web site?

The extraordinary thing about "Balloon Two: Durban, South Africa" is how Rod managed to capture the feel of the area and its people. There are one helluva lot of chicken farms in Natal and nowhere else but in South Africa will you hear someone say "I threw it with a stone". Ask Johan Grobbelaar - and Rod!

Enjoy another little taste of Africa!

                                - Ken, Johannesburg, December 13

notable birthdays Steve Busceni o John Davidson o Mary Todd Lincoln o Ross MacDonald o Clark Mills o Edwin G. Monk o Ted Nugent o Nicolas Petrov o Christopher Plummer o Lillian Roth o Dick Van Dyke o Richard Zanuck
Rod's random thoughts Sunday is for singing quiet songs and for loving everything you come in contact with.

Wear your Sunday face all day today.

Sunday in bed with someone you love is heaven right here on earth.

Sunday is a great day to go out hunting unicorns. (Jay?)

BALLOON TWO: Durban, South Africa

Six A.M.
the chase truck's
           out of fuel.
Never mind
we'll still be in the sky
           by sunrise.
Seven and we're up.
Low hills first
and then the green trees
a farmer shouts come down
and have a cup of tea

as on we sail.

Now a village
and the natives scatter.
We wave and bravely
they shout back,
hang on
while we slip
             slowly down
to top the trees.
Bumping, scraping
                  feather-like
the topmost branches.
You let loose
a Texas rebel yell.

Eight.
The morning sky
is now red diamonds
and as many different shapes
                      and sizes
as the sectioned fields.
We'll skim the lake
at left and just ahead,
or set down in the meadow
just below that far brown knoll.

            Not now.
A little higher first,
a little farther yet
surely something lies beyond, beyond,
                                 beyond.

Look!

The chase truck's catching up.
Fire up again.
Beyond that grove
of blossoming trees
we'll lose it.

          Stand still, look up
                        then scatter
over half a dozen acres.

           Three white birds below us
pay no attention
as our shadow scrapes them
        like a passing cloud.

Not quite nine.
Two fuel tanks still unused
we can sail straight through
The Valley of a Thousand Hills
and not come down till noon.

The trees we're topping now
          have only tops.
Above
the slightly superstitious sun
plays hide and seek
but warms us anyway.
The day is opening
now hills beyond
                the front hills
show themselves
           as we come near.

Cane fields
stretch out
       along the left
on the right side
           chicken farms
              and chicken farms.

Unexpectedly,
more clouds ahead.

A black girl running
               down the road
hides behind
           the sugar stalks
peering at this aberration
                         in the sky
confident that she
     can spy on us
          and not be seen.

We let her keep her secret
and wonder what she'll tell
her unbelieving friends.

Hau! Did you see?
Men looking,
but they couldn't find me.
They fly in painted egg
they cook it
light the fire.

Hau! A big egg.
In many colors.

Hau! In the sky!
I threw it with a stone.
Hau! Egg run away.


A startled springbok
        leaps in the air
and now another and another.
They bound across the valley,
                                  gone.

                                -from "We Touch the Sky", 1979

© 1979, 1986, 1998 by Stanyan Music Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved
Birthday research by Wade Alexander
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