“You know is what you doing now?… inviting
everybody to stay passive until they find
they dead.”
– Wilson Harris, The Secret Ladder (1963)
At night mild island tremors – the mosquito net
probes, dust icons Moko strides disturb; + back
to back, the morning bed side turn; his palm
the constancy presuming.
The sound of fibres
verifying while our Diablesse urinates jangle Ctrl
keys to flesh | not Kaieteur, bladders leak pledge^
pause options.
^
Wings stitched back again fall off; our harpy checks
its swerve preferred > midriff flash, latch unattached;
the thumb dot foreheads dare outgrow.
Island lamps
line slipslop strips, planet flights landing > crapaud
time lips to kiss, wildest^dream gate open;
feel holy Marley! alright.
^
Seven to ninety years from here who’ll care ? to
know you once lived there under sugar tonnage,
canal faith^resembling fins.
Paw scratch unwelcome @desire for cold duck
shuddering cork up Sorry! screws Not in Service
nipples shield | your secret prayer safe
with me . Geeta xx
- W.W.
YUH RAP SO (4.9)
When she was found, as still as an iguana
(Except her eyes could no longer slowly blink)
There was no blood around her, nor anything
Resembling the residue of a struggle.
But her expression was never less humble,
Her eyelids unshut + her nostrils + mouth
Agape as they continued to defy Death:
– Even if you kill off all we bucks like dis,
Freda had mumbled to Judd after her first
Surrender to his conquistadoring spear,
– We blood gon trail y’tail till de enda Earth:
Uttered after her blood's cells had given up
Their pretence of not being nomads
(from “Raponani”, by Brian Chan, 2023)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 