“My hand is full of lines
like your breast with veins, lady – ”
– Martin Carter, Do Not Stare At Me (1951)
Stylists of trust . with bread or brush, song or touch
claim it’s our best interest to refuse the manicure
on trigger fingers | Boarding chime : Mr. Bludbliss? Yay.
Duk Luk? Nay.
Every sumptuous carpet^welcome on TV sets
the blood racing; those fabrics dasheen clean, who
chalked them ? like my uncle’s funeral jacket do
they crease easy.
\ Since we won’t be together forever Don’t touch
me! we should consider what our close shavings
tea leaf^like tell.
My seamstress Aunt tethers
end^run lines > spent souls who knot ‘n’ close heart
shell script turning screw.
^
\ No matter how far you range globe beams
scan^find traces | aliens with planet weaves never caught
coupling in our mangrove lay low.
Hoist towers we copy
after speechless years cane leveling | load to shed
bone idle, bottoms feed tax strokes.
Contractors of belief swear floor^knees with licks
of prayer top finger beads any day . wan’to try?
Roman nails for wrist (son crossed) could sell again,
sooner than the end to ice shelf melt . wan’to see?
– W.W.
PEDRO PERDIDO
…………….
… all is not perdido
despite the keybored killer’s already stale insistence,
not when there’s such a lovely shape of rhythm now moving
towards you with a bounce in her step and wings to her hips
not with the late sun-bow sprung off the edge of the mirror
beside your table and falling across the page of words
by which you are again trying to escape a whole world
of Table Mirror Don’t Blame Meyou Thank You May I Have
Please Thank You Very Much That Was One Made Popular By.
………………………………………
(from “The Gift Of Screws” by Brian Chan, 2008)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 