No knowing there is that holds . hard rain
disputes how much the grape harvest dilutes.
In time cards face the table; fate pokers accept the call
putting all on hind gut notice – point made, into the pool
strip leap . no Exit hazard hand.
A herdsman hums and gestures to the sky; devices light up
wave numbers. Court’s moot . who wouldn’t weigh out the cold
night rules, slide in with Eau Cologne discreetness.
Long before firsts came ashore someone swept sand
foot prints, picked up lunch wrappings; the slender leaf
that rolls up pain drained our mud fevers very well.
Like the jaw prize in crocodile
eyes, we had to have one like it : one tuck ‘n’ ride dock,
chest cool metal; a dream proof pipe replacement.
Coming one day we felt this thing. I mean,
like chandelier beyondness it wouldn't let bones rest.
Plumage blow up we would, heavens to hell
raise for it; punch a salmon in the face if it came too
close, depth fins roam charging for it.
– W.W.
MARA
But this same face-saving ‘operversity’ –
As she calls her job’s philistinism – is
What provokes Mara to try to transcend it.
At least, she still prides herself, she isn’t one
Of the post-war platoon of brats who believe
That they shouldn’t have to put up with any
Inconvenience. And, once, she has argued Isn’t love
The shittiest inconvenience? Yet all or
Most of us, can’t wait to crash into its wall –
Beside which work’s dumb frustrations are ant-hills.
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 