Time over tossed . bottles turn up on our shores, tidings
moss glad to part waves . offer proof we deserve longer spells
of dignity | knife to apple shine core rot, the throat of sheep
wolf bleeders . deviate the mean.
Near last rest station Empire lips stitching up might
trade debt words | Estate droplet discharge . mite bites
grave cough informing.
Blues essential for latex rites intel us . chess
clock calm > canoes away ! up stream from candidate win
winds; canticleers in cracking pitch trying out cantankerous
licks Ah ee ah ee ah.
If church bells rang up each new virus loss . iCare
Supreme prefigures they’d be ventilator count laps ‒ nine ?
ten minutes apart, then fresh tongue toll | we’d cancel Mass
Prayers . circles gather at the beach watch sand castles
occupy child fingers.
Such planet bane serves notice : feeders to sea, rivers / bed dry
particles like nothing before discrete / soon could commission
Reaper rake > leaves composting, low tide litter hell | off
the air complicity, heaven hears.
What next . might Dios mio!
spread . above us night day canopy lock ? grid the papaya;
on point sharp flute the flame we keep.
– W.W.
A RUSTY FERRY, THE ORSON
The wide moment, dead as far as motion stops,
Is still breathing like the now unforced waters
Of a pregnant angst lapping at the boat’s sides.
There are a few attenders to the rhythm
Of this breathing: two blooming women themselves
Inlets and ferries of new life within them;
An infant Buddha sucking in his listening’s milk;
An old man, knowing he is about to stop,
Keen at last to belong to that pulse of air
Which he feels most of Earth’s sojourners ignore
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 