The salmon revelers might be first to panic . midstream
scrambling for gill, mount protectors.
This is what I've always
feared, this facialist zoomed / recalling grandma days
on the island / from garden manicures, our lagahoo
own ways.
Blood trace in the palm ? from scratch, the carrion
keeper steupsed ! turning back gold fish coming
up from piss pots under. Consider yourself
blessed.
Wave anticipating . brow ridge servers wipe,
rebalance trays of flute ablution | like nothing
level clattering could ever cross . bite look
away! addiction here.
~
Blank in waters fresh v salt . finish
walls protest, Enough we don’t get paid to tape
fast rabbit lappings, head cap twists.
Root all you want in time ? the wary
peloton reels in the clear lung blaster. Straight lines!
clock starters warn, You weave, teeth grind | grid
confined.
~
\ Last chance at dragon . play ? so break
away; leave butterfly chest thumps for the catch
dispatch crew.
\ Contain vessel cleared, so swing
stern Go . leash, walk the dog | with dignity back
in rope braids for you some bind combs hot.
Aie aie . oh monsoon
forming | thigh dams lock, thoughts ‘n’ prayers.
– W.W.
QAT
*BUT she was set on getting him to outgrow
Himself: either that or she'd kick his con out -
Which she finally did, not too long after
Coming home and finding him sprawled out naked under
Her domed skylight, his eyes closed like some sacré
Sonnensucher’s (she’d seen enough of that bunch
When she was in that halfway-house in München)
And with her Mandela book under his knees!
Sun-fading her sofa again was one thing,
Disrespecting Africa was another:
Wake up and get your nasty balls offa my clean chair!
(from “Charon’s Anchors” by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 