04/03/2026
“…the long delight of air . the sense of power
and the sense of passion . created by the dead
and wooden crutch of spirit and tongue.”
— Martin Carter, How Come? . 1972
Good old school takes a while to close its doors,
home away from creaking beams; desk
fresh uniforms rewire tried^life lime . clean
slate test.
Kneeling (no one’s around) carriers ask What
could be done ? about this cross < the sun’s
old whip . still in service; galvanize roof^
pleats protecting left behinds.
……………
Intercourse made simple : join a cricket team
wear pristine whites, become a family doctor –
who sensed what crevice Rishi would ? pad stroke
probe ~ pay for ~ his iPhone need to be found.
……………..
At colour . skin we barely jump, cane^ribbed
poui ibis braised / hair, though, aids long^
short memory camps – the cats’ curling brush,
dread lion irons / T’spoon yuh cocoa, Gurleen.
Mean + byways feed off pain < for long
cold moons risk horning \ + blind returns
on foreign exchange \ masks to bounce
with our blood demon . thirst requests.
- W. W.
YUH RAP SO (6.9)
We are content – they condescendingly sigh –
that you witness us just as we witness you
you needn’t try to climb us – it – we wouldn’t change
your path – which is simpler than you imagine –
to cross the borderline between low and high –
themselves a mirage but more user-friendly –
that model train of a metaphor for you
to catch to be transported by – over this
border on which you and your scrivener wait –
your Bartleby who should prefer not to climb
any more stairs – having seen and tried and failed
to climb any – all of us more air than stone
(from Limboa, a sentimental album
by Brian Chan, 2023)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 