The breast that swells for that first child, or flirts with
that bearded man – how it flash^heats if some ungodly!
unlatched thing intervenes.
Until that moment you had
no idea | inside these chamber walls an asset sleeps
– to activate whose iron hot code after prayers
won’t poke? – winged to respond.
The kitchen knife rack understands, We’re good! sheen
up for any canyon ride | tired to tell the truth of table
cloth pairing, onion ‘n’ spread chores.
Good grief ! not the melee scythe
swing, little David shottas sling. Watch me! faith
fear polyps stick so the range host knows.
*
\ Old fluid leaking body parts swear
they’d find reserves for one last mission . relieve
dull pleasure^pain hauled mute all these years.
\ Break timid’ties like flies to wonton
soup the right hand swats | get dressed, it snaps,
blood to do about nothing.
Variants loose an issue ? like molecules in public
bowls doubt shaping | nothing our stainless apps
couldn't handle – you too pronoun^cocked yield
gaps to plug . twin^pact aiming.
– W.W.
THE HUNTER WHO DOES NOT EAT MEAT
My grounds are what you might call clouds and my prey
is the winged deer whom I must stalk until
he, aglow with ripe evasion, turns
his face to mine to offer his whole
being with his wings as outstretched to me
as my arms with their arc and arrow to him
To feed on those wings without having known them
is the glad blind business of my fellow
villagers whom I have left behind
so as to find them the finest food
which I myself, fasting, only feed back,
in thanks, to the air’s sacrificial angel.
…………………………………………….
(from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 