Ask from the closet and dead man's clothes hanging
on . how long! before the brand starts up, gods name
new . promising this time no mask die cast, meters
paid in spirit ‘n’ risen things.
Up late . we know near how the planet
outposts run; last test, sun shields holding.
More . so we stir
moon about done for howls . as capsules eagle away!
fish feed on asteroids. Vantage points what’s beaming
front lobe towers . glass sides list pyramid tips.
Could be what's fixed
wind twisting shapes. Still, no lip stiff sips wisping, You
see, in those days/ or touched recounts . how much spread
on the cob costs love.
The life wed Art lock ? brush lines slipped off the grid
no fear path found. Sensors pick up what once marveled
so essential seeming, canvas left trails; and museum tap
screens demonstrate how dust to code webbed tales.
Rest best we can, filled feel . knowing it was worth
the plastic parts played : skull scalpel phone in hand
despite what frost ‘n’ fires put us through, hatch
snatched from us . lucky at all we came ! brute
incomplète . et tu.
– W.W.
LESSING
No thinker himself, Lessing
Was horrified by the hollows of set fear
In which those who could think even less than he
Dangled like bats whose sonar echoed nothing outside
All their caves the one cave, and nothing beyond
All its labels they had swallowed and become,
Tags numbingly hallowed like temple-standards.
Lessing, to challenge his own cave’s habit-mind,
Would in blind daylight stop in mid-flight some bat
Whose wings and lips would then flutter and swear how
Much like a lark it was darting through its cave-free day ‒
At which point of the wayward fiction called life,
Lessing would be swamped with envious regard
For the bat’s rampant pluck, its gift from blindness.
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 