Pole positions some kind lean . keel in the course
of our rolling grasp about; but a hands street lift
off seems guaranteed providing you're not alone, left
haltered . fade in hospice layers.
If only beams could flight globe plan : night till ray;
our bracing as wheels touch faith scorch land, breath
blue burning : It’s Ok! part angels clutch . ride
sigh beside you.
Such fear ! to stare, reach with.
Terms cum deed knock wedges clear out of even; feed
numbers swell . last offer sits on the table growing
cold the longer favours hover corks and chrome
fork over.
Into stars vast, work ‘n’ rest heaps ~ swan
knife dives feel expected.
For pluck good feathers revel game, lovers weigh
caveats like lobster . claws reminding us nothing is
given that wouldn’t be taken . back snap! next
red turn around \ Aie aie aie.
– W.W.
QAT WITH CHARON
*BUT The world IS bigger and here before me!
Qat once shouted at Charon, her nègre rouge
Of a cancre who had just dared to suggest she
Fooled herself by kneeling scared below the world’s totems.
Qat could forgive Charon for talking funny,
Et après?, but she did not intend living
With some pimp who refused to honour his pute.
She held no delusions about her active
Rȏle in keeping Charon and the world alive
And kicking ‒ Charon and therefore the whole world ‒
Which does not, as he felt, start with a soul’s latest dream
Of it, but had A-start, world without Z-end:
She was born Catholique and he was born blind.
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 