for John Mc T. & Zulaika A.
Time was, papi still sighs, you'd shout
after a purse snatcher – back when it carried
your personals, cash (now credit cards): the quiver
of signatures.
Today an angry young woman blocks the car of a man
who snatched her iphone, glares his getaway.
NYcity kids turn back, refuse front entrance search,
brood in class if told hand over mobiles.
You must tell me what? you can't hold, eye to eye display?
take back, retouch before your message finger
scrolls or sends?
Ah, papi,
radiant chat could stack & smoke in the head
that must be emptied. My time, your space not measured, brewed
could serve an instant gamer. Dark villages awaiting postcards,
footsteps pick up now; ol' folk walk & call like new;
like fireflies cells blue glow
like cicadas long distance beeps.
Besides, new solitudes require
offsets wired (& pharm domains). Not enough the wind,
naked lip strolls; paint & brush myth making
by the sea; your pet fur combed.
Bed mates betrayed dare not now swear – the evidence's saved!
– that love was hardly there. Each suspect
breath's now snapped & filed; we have visuals;
smart cursors will track you while you dance or sleep.
Hold on one sec
That's my ring tone
Minutes cost, I must answer
"Hola…
You know what time it is?
Traders, day for night, is who they are.
Si…si...que madre!
(These nets of need, this planet of desires)
I'm on the train now
On the train.
-W.W.
CLOUDWALK
The wind and sun collaborate
in a kindly balance, the grass
nods and points towards a new church
still being built whose steeple draws
me on along a ridge towards
you. This is one way of being
within you as you drift away.
So the wind dandelions know.
I think of picking two for you
but decide against offering you
bleeding things and leave them to breathe
without fear. Near the church
I can't yet get past the facade
of an old beauty taking new
shape too early now to enter.
But now's the right time, late enough
to turn and hurry back to you,
making flowers wince as I run
to meet you dripping green rain
through cracks of the new spire pointing
in the clear distance that we share.
(from "Fabula Rasa" by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 