“…this instinct, this passion for reversible objectivity /
subjectivity at the heart of the world…that wired
each bulb into epitaphs of place ”
– Wilson Harris, Companions of the Day
and Night (1975)
For this bosom
who will reach ? stomach churn . mate in out prime
frame, clan vows to bake | or build a stroke, test
the rest in peace.
Scarves help keep heads whole; our heritage
team is doing everything in its power . repair
on habits bent like missed you teeth.
Women in pyjama^dress hiking furious bike all
the way from Hajistan . hitch distress with Banyan
tree climbers in our village.
Chests set
in prayer worn braces pump . the make belief
dome open^close . blast off slip through.
+
Astonishment lingers ! our island wine, ecstasies
impure released @Jouvert mud; you should stop
by, sample | skip the squirt squirt! servings
@house plant.
/ The worried look
up on your face ! oh snap, you’re cramping.
You need your phone ? can’t do this Not
your bandwidth for sweat flip.
Wide World Office cleaners passing through
Saharan dust to broom . when room sheets shout
Tuck! corners take care extraordinary.
– W.W.
YUH RAP SO (1.9)
Khan knew his fate was set like a river’s course
Leading to a waterfall either a curse
Or a couldn’t-care-less hauteur of power
Shrugging itself off, dauntlessly (there’d be more
Where that came from) – but Ladd needed to belong
To a presence greater than he, a good son,
If not to his parents, good son of the soil,
(Guyana Grew Me, as he would later seal
His soul’s role, this time around, in the true tale
Of his upbringing as force-fed prodigal
Doomed to repay God’s country with faith-forced seeds)
…………………………
………………………….
(from “Raponani” by Brian Chan, 2023)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 