9/23/2025
“This boast sprang from a thriftless love
of romance…genuine optimism…self-advertisement
…self-ignorance.”
– Wilson Harris, Palace of The Peacock (1960)
Off the mound @takers inn guest departure
matters pile up | at the rostrum mumbling a bit
this island poet reads from her Blanket: Want
Tattoo Bad . Snug^google! help me live^
stream away
All through night^twists her iPhone stays on
quiet . charged companion; no hand device pitch
from heaven to earth emits more horse^
nickering light.
+
Savi loves her notification chime . sharper
than any shop bell ringing . Ah, someone’s here
to bargain for my freedom | glass counter
over pass not working.
Boredom tailor made skirts inch up now^
tugged down; office hems curse the slit^leg
chafe of day | Admin WhatsUp! closet spread.
+
As Magdalena Marie’s pheromones circle^
drain in the cubicle Monsignor wonders
how ? amour Him^Her ? towels shoulder blades
holsters Shalt^Nots in place.
Our island planners piece ‘n’ parcel haute^
faux shorelines | estate coconut heads chop
box^crypt bury; holes for blood thinning
turtle vapours.
– W.W.
YUH RAP SO (5.5)
The first shall be last + the last lost for words
Is my gallows-graveyard comfort for my lack
Of modish talent; or else: It’s just the luck
Of the draw for this straw-life – as though i’d had
No say in the drawing-up of the contract
Between the Lords of Destiny + my soul:
Bemoaning that fate, I might curse What the Hell!
– At which the aforementioned Lords simply smile
(One must fool oneself they’re attending at all)
& send me a few more imps too hellish-hot
To be ignored, demons that must, will be heard.
(from “Raponani”, by Brian Chan, 2023)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 