Sharp as wet shark pain starts . brakes a path pull
over on left shoulder, nausea colluding > chill tight
chest in time you call an ambulance, your mother.
Say folding you fall 'n' can’t recall : wait long thirst
responders might scrub for the credits nesting deep
in plaque pockets.
Okay! I will learn to trust strangers taking
risks everyone else lavenders.
Pain snaps shouldn’t bubble the body . you're expected
to halfcock valley through. Contouring matters ‒ the cast
on prove point : ink tag the torso but get there even
if thigh riders like spirits in the dark haven’t a full beam
clue.
Crowd spent . route signs fade like nightmares
of inbrowning border herds.
Plot luck fifty faces show up under black umbrellas
assuming it rains for the will turn dust release; rush
come to shovel . your down stare renters may have pushier
plans | such priceless subparting . no no lower.
In bed goings gone side stay . stones with you head
lay; make sure to register how earth wipes its steel
on sleeve tears, particles redeeming.
Pedestrians might jump
rail we have an agreement . highwire up, horn brass
ziggedy net you back on line next day.
– W.W.
CERTAINTY
A shadow on a ceiling might be a stain
of leaked rain, or a gouge or gnarl. To know
which one it is, you must touch the spot.
A tiny fly on a windowpane can seem
a distant bird in the sky, or the bird
a mite in the corner of your eye.
(Those are logic’s old-wives’ tale-brakes) But the perched
bird becoming one with my blood’s pulse is
beyond all either-or-boths, within
no dent-or-bump, far-or-near, wild-or-tame game,
no watchful-or-blind, nervous-or-calm cage.
When our one bloodstream again divides,
he flies off, his unity-work done, and three
of his brothers propose a trinity
of pointed perch in a tree of Spring.
These witnesses, once witnessed, also move on,
leaving a quartet of guardians to watch
over their bird-man attending to
his closest gods. (But that’s a real true story.)
(from “Nor Like An Addict Would” © by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 