Category: Uncategorized

            “For wheresover the carcase is, there
             will the eagles be gathered together.”
               – Matthew 24 . 28

11/02/2025

Progress in core building runs the same slip^
fall tests – for spasms, role strain, period leaks;
fault found, before you stick a label first
scrape off our given names.

Who doesn’t love a wake ? service food
free gossip rum | grave^floral blouse ‘n’ shirts
bring us close to Gone! in tension; let down
bearers sifting memories.

 ………………   

Poulomi born in Europe, Caribbean raised
lived and works in Canada, the States; ‘dress
shifts stitched to frame her resumé ! who swears
prints of origin (foot, mud) hardly matter.

Elbow duty on toilet seat jaw propping
no longer pays; nor bony fingers for peeling
hard boiled eggs . for pleasure^pain
pin pointing.

……………….          

Desirée who tests underwear for a living
likes folding heritage layers . steupsing at people
who kneel on no^carpet floors; who peep
the leaf, saving grace^favours.

World devices chill minds + keep fanning
body heat | our island drivers fear updates,
which explains sunset shivers, nightie
fucking No, not now! suck teeth.

– W.W..

[ Colonial Order of Clouds . Georgetown, Guyana . 1965 ]

YUH RAP SO (5.9)

Sequitur: There were so many leaves still green
On the ground of the clearing in which he found
Himself standing + looking around – not stalled
By anything save why he was there at all –
That tired Thomasson was again made aware
Of the absence of soothing Autumns to cure
The eternal-summer fevers in these parts
– As he still thought of this posting, this outpost
Of the dearthing Commonwealth (its bank-accounts
Under new [IMF/World Bank] management,
New Empire-aegis for Friendly Dictators):

The trees he sensed were unaware that murder
Was the principle seeding their own jungle

(from “Raponani” by Brian Chan, 2023)

10/23/2025

“Don’t worry. His shoulders and arms were
   always big. But his legs fine-fine like yours.”
   – Wilson Harris, The Whole Armour (1962)

Though you might think you getting off
at Stockings, Heritage Ware . contractors clap
clap clicking Can we help you ? gut a wish
made fish or two.

Street vendoritas at fruit stalls warn ~ Please
don’t squeeze up the zaboca ~ a piece of wood
could buss yuh head | dress nice for up stairs
to devotion tiers; copy^heads up first.

………..

As harpy wings flutter on shoulders bared
wives near 40nine worry . bent over still
best at bed pillow plumping; fat flanking
dry dock days of prayer.

While soup still hot . spoon sip soothe
the pelvis lining . No place set to bread
stick this deliciousness | one heart loss Only
one! rests here.

…………

As take holders shuffle deal our Estate
card men front ‘n’ grind | strips cropped
for runway ? who has tools or time to think
pantless wheels in need of hangar.

Her overseer sheets wrung on line hung
to dry . ocean blue blue sighs despite
I goin’ seal Him ! ring on finger wax tight
tight so reparation nights burn bright.

W.W.

[ Colonial Left Turn . Georgetown, Guyana 1977 ]

YUH RAP SO (5.8)

Wandering Zimmer-men can’t afford to stall
At the romance of Struggling-Artist failure:
Carpentering minstrels do not lop their ears
Nor blow their poor brains out in sunflower fields
As yellow as the shite of the world’s blind bird
Peacocking its quills deaf to Death’s drums + drone:
For Judd, aristo-son South American
(He refused an Anglo-Caribbean fate)
Social failure was an opportunist grace
By which – as in all poverty self-valued –
Experiment’s alloy alone proved true gold.

(from “Raponani” by Brian Chan, 2023)

10/13/2025

Noga as a singer is as frightening
as her person is approachably kindly
in her looking-after of hungry people
even us with too much food-money to be
hungry in the gut but who eat anyway –  
if just to prove we can afford to eat more
that our spoilsport cardiologists advise^
too-much proves us as rich as not-enough prods
poor people to seek heart beyond the wilful
muscular organ pumping away under
its cage of ribs policing its tyranny
of automatic memory and its twin
amnesiac habit and their delusion
that their body-serfdom is their final empire

 (from “Limboa”, a sentimental anthem,
   by Brian Chan,  2023)

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
this amour Him^Her ? towels shoulder blade^
holsters Shalt^Nots in place.

Our island planners piece ‘n’ parcel haute^
faux shorelines | estate coconut heads chop
box^crypt bury; leave 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)

09 /13/2025

A tireless soul masked as watchful waitress-mind
charging past my table – plates of food balanced
on her palms and forearms – stops fast and looks back
down at me – her eyes as heavy as dark plums –
and with pro aplomb asks como está senhor?
not wanting or right at that moment needing
an answer but giving a diner a chance
to witness her busyness rhyming with his
just once in this millionth step of her job’s dance
…………..
and what she attests to – out of the silence
of her resignation to her fate so far –
up to this point of pause in her busyness
anchoring and plumbing itself through a faith
in an X beyond but contained within it –
what she professes and enacts now is Heart.

 (from “Limboa”, a sentimental anthem,
             by Brian Chan,  2023)

 “A log must build, stand motionless in space…
carved in the sky like a door into limbo
or paradise.”
                            – Wilson Harris, Companions of the Day
                                                          and Night (1975)

  Not to be sniffed at, revenue from tail squirm
sermons + hearts ‘n’ hands in folds of cross
 dependence.
                        Upgrade! chatbots in the booth < making
           maiden^beast deals; to be continued.

                          \ The rest of us grindin’ dry can only
           watch men run schoolboy^like bus to prison
           yard | tug at crotch, fierce peace holding.

                                             + 

          Island roads long past bicycle quietudes;
          the grass aghast at stone^glass mountains ! turn
          signals blur so virtues risk shortcut man^
          handling; clickety split licks.

          Our FooFoo lady spreading fat . hollow allyuh
          fill fight follow ! crapaud foot scrawl Dis
          Dem Dat | good book don’t scare^block rabble
          browsing. Helluvathing.

                                             +

                          \ From desert wells empty lives wake
          in dry sweat | blue habit Sisters ladling soup
          lean in to help  > stall showers, strip^
          confess power.

          Ecstasy only you log on screen binge, you
          think ? no one (the dead ? up there; neck
          crane gasping) else sees ? clouds ‘n’ belief
          laid bare.
                                                   – W.W.

 

 

              YUH RAP SO (5.4)

              In the direction of the shadowless girl
             Thomasson extended his embittered smirk,
             Remembering one bishop with a sickly
             Sneer on his mug gliding down, not too nimbly,
             A cathedral-aisle + nodding at tourists,
             Courting their coins, granting some a chance to kiss
             The boil-like ring on his cocked middle finger:
             Our priest was ashamed, not just of belonging
             To that club of fatted geese with gilded calves,
             But also of now suddenly wanting that
             Forest-offering, Judd’s girl, as his own wench.

             But to grab the mile beyond his granted inch?

               (from “Raponani”, by Brian Chan, 2023)

   

                                   
 “…the ultimate moment to leap… to abandon
   a grotesque imitation of life for… the innocence
of a phantasm of pollen.”
– Wilson Harris, The Whole Armour (1962)

                    First scrape with death tagged . so near
                    miss invites a halo round . the date
                    no one plays bass . for such is our relief.

                       \ Dense forest helps you find your center
                    anchor birds chirp This way ! our shaman
                    counsels Not your time with wolves | good
                    place to hide from roam chargers.

                                                  +

                    While clocks toss streamers at his office
                    shadows mark pawn moves his back lines
                    bank . files to vault sliding.

                       \ Mile post 69 . moistures North South warming
                    kite hands tremble like at Easter, frame
                    to wind | last lick rapid like @Our Kaie^
                    Falls . paddles stop repeating.

                                                   +

                    G’way, my bumper fine so ~ from country
                    cart man just assume ~ fair skin, hips honor
                    rose rolled tight ~ Wheels up, so this house^
                    husband climbs | the give^take sway.

                       \ First song, first penetration, grade report; first
                     Gun! wound Win, exclusion > the algorithm
                   how it stitches, bills ! instills, hands out balloons
                    Arrgh.

                                                                   – 

[ In mem: Chuck Mangione . 1940 – 2024 . Gave All He Got ]

                    YUH RAP SO (5.3) 

                    Was this really the club Dilys had needed
                    To join? or was she as stray-doggy to God
                    As she suspected the other nuns thought her?

                    Yes, God fulfilled all his creatures, but never
                    Enough, since His mind her mind could never be
                    Satisfied – as that Emperor-of-Ice-Cream
                    Wall-ace Whatsisname had warned her in a book
                    Small + pale like a slice of escapist cake –
                    Not quite Light Reading like those pure love-stories
                    Which Mother Joseph didn’t find out-of-place
                    In her rectored coven hallowing Mary
                    Magdalene loved by Jesus in his pure way.

                    (from “Raponani”, by Brian Chan, 2023)

                     

                   

       
       
             But maybe all he needs is a good night's sleep 
             after which everything will be dawn-rosy^
             if only i could convince myself that’s true –
             i have enough money – oh no i forget –
             though it’s still a popular trope that you can’t
             take it with you – its promise and investments
             and dividends have clung to and followed me
             here where nothing can be bought hoarded or sold
             except the mind buying into and hanging
             onto and selling itself more of the same
             assumptions of finality and safety
             that are sold into money’s risky fictions^
             you don’t know the half of it! the scribbler says

                  (from “Limboa”, a sentimental anthem 
                                            by Brian Chan,  2023

 

 

                 

             Sign post at the Hub : ‘Deliver or Perish’ won't
             refine Estate bred steuups; nor guide the child asleep
             fast in the basket on his mother’s arm.

             Nights when pillows pain! pain! dampen 
             plantain wielders sneak to breach | into noodle^
             slurping brutes  <  Crank! safe we want Boom!
             holes you take; fence repaired.

                                               +

            Buddha statues work harder than city tower^
            screen panels, Be advised ! still active wallaba
            totems steer you clear; don’t scowl rub blink.

           ‘Im show up at our door, old Miguel Street^
            like pardner; promise to install a Tech stream
            version of time flies : Press here; and here.
            And there you flow, see?

                                              + 

            Reema raised shy in heritage pen < Please pray 
            stay wipe my brow, her mother’s end > arc
            Angel waive the hair braid test | 321 Alarms 
            go off?  who vex so vex.

            As climate spumes our Kaya fumes My life 
            bit bites this I must bear ? gully^ bending^ purse^
            flood watch | eligible navels bathe ‘n’ sun;
            that beacon on the sea ! her sanatorium.

                                                                     – W.W.

 

         

         
               [ In mem: Sly Stone . 1943 – 2025 . ThankYouFalettin ]

 

              YUH RAP SO (5.2)

              Moksha had essayed a satire about her
              Culture of ducks, cows and horsemen in T-shirts
              Word-pushing stuff nobody ever heard of,
              & Teacher Judd, by then his pupil’s lover,
              Had been properly horrified that the gyirl
              Was blind to her best of all possible worlds
              Whose people were simply different from those ants
              With their busy nests + petty hills he had
              Outgrown in the capital of God’s country
             (As though He had only one) with its bounty
              Left over from Sun-blind pirates’ Dorado

             (from “Raponani”, by Brian Chan, 2023)