Nothing they'll ever regret to inform . you day
for night delighted to accept : too beside ourselves
as powers to arrest stay Open! accounts so our faute
lourde break wind . since soon what clean choices
remain?
Faith enablers
fondle every reason we dress to believe.
Our raptures dull like dentures in hard waters
of habit even as we chew the sunniest celery stick ‒
insider collusion . you know how rough colons get.
Our liberties bend for the quick take one . U got this?
gig room spell done! as straight face irons stroke
the juiciest lies : the time squeeze index now
assigned to the thumb.
Greenheart or oak no difference makes the man
with or in the chopper.
There’s always something rare
nonearth globe seaming : tunnels vagabundo under
way through perimeter coils pledged to sieve Go
north dust.
!Caution, then | out of abundance pull book marks
from Revelations Alert ~ glacier risings, drone high
eye dry grave plotters, beasts in cells ~ comings
were never tooth 'n' chip like this.
Crepe, I know
in any age for any late breaking nation.
– W.W.
QAT
Inveterate vacuum-abhorring Qat would
Berate Charon scratching his balls on her bed:
Better do someting before someting do you!
Or Satan find work et cetera, and he (Charon,
Not that other Servant of The Man Upstairs)
Might sigh, reviewing Hamlet’s live-or-die angst,
Bartleby’s prefer-not-to-do suicide,
Kafka’s ‘terror’ of Art and his own of not
Not-doing, his fate of having not to prove
His existence save by choosing still to breathe.
But Qat was scared of his doing nothing, of seeming
To not need to prove himself to anyone.
His Who cares? was not a shrug Qat could afford:
Performance was all ‒ product, proof, more ‒ of worth.
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan, 2018)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 