"…wheat field, swath of light, violet
stains, the night someone wiped her hands on."
- Ishion Hutchinson, Second Return
Passages rite . cased in the head / who hears who
cares ? on the plane train play platform / knot
tight the scarf, scroll your bewares.
Gauge what distance keeps anxieties dry . how lava
issues fold as morning cold shower runs | flip
the omelet quick before it burns.
The pet couch, trust gets you used
to tunnels, light mirage | one day ~ that leap,
the cleave through custom, arms air kiting ~ tuck
legs extend, polar like flag planting.
Inside your storm saviours tour, feel
Sorry . mate gap fill. Ten, twelve years on slices
thin / fingers stall, tip dust / faith clasp like
child to feed.
And oak beam
ceilings curb until, doubts swung, joint hips make
room | release . restart OK.
+
*Sun clock dings, now who was it ? ordered
pawns to go / gambits open fixed wing chest
pain endings, kills confirmed / off line each grace
state waits . what a drip drip.
Range, moon walk the square . fresh
Queen | Rien pour rien . time liens.
- W.W.
CHARON
*NOW closing his eyes and surprising himself
By actually sinking into a kind
Of sleep, one conscious of its own shallowness,
Charon sees Pablo’s Reading Girl in the rocking-chair
His mother used to sink into at tea-time,
Either because she is actively yearning
For her Chineeman to bring some chocolate or
For baby to done born and lef she in peace.
In this vision he senses the roots of his
Insoluble sadness locked to his mother’s
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 