" : the dim senses of birth, the remote senses
of death, the cold and hungry senses of love"
- Wilson Harris, The Waiting Room (1967)
Arrival . still clicks away, on sea rough days grab
one device – your paddle board with flotation keys.
Our doors ‘n’ windows closed, somehow the dust
gets in? look closer . mist on the room mirror.
Mood^swing practice helps . with the wallaba
bat in case the cave^safe light stops working;
the dog starts barking.
Elsewhere not read like cup sediment The mat
he bled out on the ground, he bled out so, the blood
thick so | believe! so au revoirs drain. Rinse off, if
iPhone lulz you crave.
*
Who could refuse with guilt^in wish a basket
of puppies? We were meant to love, the card says,
from a pudding egg stuffer who thought first
of flowers . eye wetting.
Through cracks in dreams our Babsies fly
the caste house, leave the iron on | thinking, match
found could inseam fail ? my body news^tagged
Missing . like with snatch contractors ~^~~ so
leaf last shed.
Greetings Eh-eh @ tear bread, lamb sauce;
prayer walks now . okayy . off ol’goat look^back knees.
Oiseaux peckin’inyuhjardin? Aarrh! pommecythèrepy.
– W.W.
YOUR WORDS ARE ROUNDABOUT AND A LOT
Boats, trains and airplanes take different routes,
yet, for one journey, all can be used;
a road may be rife with curves and ruts,
but we know it always leads us here;
and, however winding a river,
nous savons qu’elle se mène à la mer.
Now no master or mere faber can
afford to consider his work done
if he wants it to kiss everyone
with a sunray’s impartial kindness,
and each according to her or his
degree of readiness for the kiss.
……………………………………
(from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 