"Peace is a full stop.
And though we had some chance of slipping past the blockade,
now only time will consent to have anything to do with us,
for what purposes we do not know.”
– John Ashbery
from “Chinese Whispers”, 2001
So what’s the mandate? the masked executor asked
the Governor, his axe paused in a golfer’s down
swing through; blade open gleaming, This is
what we do.
Someone’s chopping heads and limbs, leaving quarterly
memos off cocaine highways; faith based scat wired
devices display your résumé with the fruits & vegetables.
Scarved mothers, be advised. Rosary beads, track markers.
Clit eyelid nipple tongue – ears so last
millenium! – lower back tattoo: what why not’s
left to pierce hook brand? Mum did only nostrils,
back in Mumbai – meanwhile fat gathers; bones
on line wait shake rattle.
Lip moist, finger stroke, smooth thigh show; chest span, O
the night shift dangle! See, these pins snag rip reel
the heart, “Soul’s born to swim, love plays
bit part” – no, not quite Nietzsche, though his
trade mark.
That vibrate buttock thing – there must be
a method, trick, an app so upstarch girls can do it;
hear Fernando Botero grinding teeth in sleep
like size still matters. Go, fringe plait!
Lamborghini sirens toasting, bass artery pounding red,
chicks like bullets grazing your neck, cool million loitering
near horse reamed quakes and private jet suicides: no
“Mercy” – summer 12 – hip streets K.West.
Stone club sword bayonet bomb forty
seven – right now we’re drone proficient: less
in your face, more never know what hit you!
They’re working on the vaporizer: dust to dust
free, baby! – tree limbs saved.
-W.W.
CERAMIC CALYPSO
open or closed, it is
not too hard to be a hole:
sooner or later, you know,
you will be fed some thing
some body needs to lose.
you will never feel hunger
unless all who live here quit
the scene, this way or that.
sometimes you wish they would:
you are weary of being
crushed and flushed and brushed. but left
alone, you would become
rusty, fusty, crusty.
better to stay in service,
though therein the horror lies:
there are no surprises
left: all variations
on the theme of human waste
have but one resolution:
come to pass, gone for good
but somehow here to stay.
(from “Within The Wind” © by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 