Blasted from homes they carry . the worst of it, forced
to flee sans humanité suitcase like in old world wars;
hoping cloth layers keep dock walls dry, betray no hint
what fears in ‘n’ under weary mount.
For once
the coconut palms start slanting, sites go amiss; the frog
throat pays no mind; on swallow point charter teeth halt
grinding . turn about.
Trust a must the change
bill man; boat triers hate watching his web fingers
count / his paradise long list / your water breaking despite
how capped pain waves appear.
~
Forest, desert stake the make do maison
d’être / rest coughing up, in tent bed pests / languish so
sand literal poker hands peek anxious to call . deep
craw flushers just standing there.
*As camp fires face lick . scarvers
rifle . marbles spray the sky | bride helper, head left
right sweeping up the casings, welcome to the feast
(the program whispers).
So say the veil unhooks, combs toss
(why not) at beard groom vulvarines around the pledge.
No, your mother won’t stop crying | Yes, and tether the cow;
(at least configure, fret) grass nights on four, the belly
role ballooning.
– W.W.
QAT
*IN DOUALA (where she'd learnt shit meant also
Ab$tract dollar$), Qat used to to chant Christian Rap
In cafés and markets, and still conjures up
A good-Old Testamental retribution-picture
If you get her good-and-pissed, outraging her
Sense of decency and l’il faut de Justice:
Pour tel, elle se connait votre moyenne, mais
*TO OTHERS, she beams an 'exceptional light'
(Her boss’s term for her ‘performance-presence’)
Of hope to the puzzled polymorphs she has
To lead through the purgatory
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 