FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN

       

                
                             \ Under the samaan tree hand wash hands
            wring . time sweats hard; the touch bottomed ministries
            line feeding : glass^wrap dreamsicles on the way Allez
            Allez.

                                     On shifts of temper labour sticks;                        
            breakers point . off shore sheep^wolf interiors split
            stitch.
                                             These people, honestly steuups
            Dimwattie ! so obvious snakes in the cane Strip the field.

                                                 *

                             Heritage in case kept . about infidelities    
            so many swerved | the more of knees they understood
            the sag^hoist feel to haul; caps have not one clue. 
                                                                          Yes, naturally 
            one hyperlocal bamboo | code : shootByplay. 

                                                  *

                                                  / Harsher than suns familiar,
            our food plants placed at risk . you must be in lizard
            pause not to notice; flick that tongue thing.

                                 Oil to burn in the pan ? still can’t
            tell what stakes brown well . try the champurrado
            if you’re anywhere near their accordion contracts.

        +  Since absolutely! Made in Heaven we trust > way 
            way up there in the billions spent stars host
            Arrival Day . beacon Sorry for the delay.  We should
            probably get going, yes?
                                                            – W.W.

 

                 

               
                                              [ for John + Zul + the 70s ]

 

 

           

               TO A GELDING PROUD TO BRAY LIKE A GILDED MULE

               But gold and pearls and jade sing one another’s song,
               crystal and amber know each other as one gem
               though each knows itself a certain facet of light,
               each allowing the other of itself to be
               itself and its otherness as mirror echoes.
               Yes, I am a poor primitive, and the proud brute
               is you, petty pretender spouting accustomed
               shibboleths of your birth-tribe as Earth’s final gold.

                 ……………………………………

                (from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)

            

 

 

              
           Evening up hill^holders fade . near end claiming
           what's left to disclose ? valency low, secrets
           breast^cup secure | pain ‘n’ pampalam at peace . park
           pigeon feeding.
                                                Which doesn’t stop our Admin
           sage wood masquerade . despite bad dreams
           that snap paunch heads awake | spouse sheet^tug
           turning.

           To be chopped 12 times . thigh ‘n’ breast . one 
           for each position^wish denied | those foreday
           dip plantation^like quick eaters ! always the same
           damhungeringthing . Ow, clenching.

                                          +

                                         In band aid chapters signal          
           when to feel love^done – mid years fact fat
           facing . the belly work submits. Some day blinds
           doubled could tap tap . belief again | Hi, neighbor.

                                           ⁜

                                       / Meanwhile found talents flare
           to impress . good show! off star^shell platforms.

                               Think for one evening they might dress
           receive old ketch^fire dragons ? our Wilson H. or
           VS. N.

                      / Earthware done page them fellas . whose
           house or palace cursors blink . for islands or
           the world . links unique frozen | memory once
           our beginnings left this way.

                                                                  – W.W.

           

             

                          EDUCATION     

                                The student ready finds his teacher
                              and the first thing he learns is not
                          to share his eurekas with other
                   students whose readinesses are not his.
                         They have their own recognition-paths
                               whose paving-stones are not his words
                          about his : lesson of Babylon,
                    camp ground-school of essential loneliness,
                           limbo of immutual silences.
                                Past its loud labels he must sing
                          the Lord’s song, with no-one listening
                    but babes not yet born to no-or-yes lies.

                      (from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)

 

 

 

             
               What good was my being in awe of Galenza's chosen
             Sharp turn, whether brave or foolhardy, into a new mode
             Of existence, if i couldn’t translate my dream of him
             (We’re all turning up in one another’s dreams night and day)
             Into a conscious shift of my own heart and mind and soul?
             Was i to stay beyond the scrim and scenes of visibly
             Dramatic changes?

                You might well wonder how it was i could keep breathing in 
             Such a blank prospect.    By not becoming attached to it.
             It wasn’t the fate of having been born the dull outcome
             Of a ‘lazy fuck’ (as Carlos had his ‘Don Juan’ tag him)
             Which both sustained and alarmed me, but the unlaziness
             With which my heart mind soul and spirit (those invisibles)
             Accepted it, savoured it as one more lapse of nature.

                                                 *   

                All that should give an idea of the swirlings of my mind 
             As Halabi kept on talking about Stew’s work on his
             Restaurant’s walls, work which Stew had called Eve’s First Bite,
             Though the feminine principle seemed divorced from the thing.

              When i mentioned this divide, Halabi said,   It may not 
            Show in painting, but Stewart surely had help from this girl.
            Nice, i said, glancing at the waitress; and Halabi laughed:
            No, no I mean his girl.      My jaw dropped:  i could see Stew spray-
            Painting shapes for money, but not with some girlfriend.
 

                (from “fatima solagua arterra’s nudes” by Brian Chan)

 

 

             
         Bound to be floaters warning all . at any ephemeral
         port Mode Safe ! years after the corona confirm > start
         cough release course strings.
                                                                  Just saying
         no, well, mouse or mat one can only hope | pursued
         caught taken . over by old age Aarrh!

         Scrub^worn the face that's part child^nation raising;
         some hands won’t clasp in home pure play, désolé
         cher Papa passed; dredge boom hard to deceive.

         That amber skirt alert ! long as it’s sourcing money 
         beehive cell workers stay on cue . you wax
         the moon Hey, look at me!

                                             +

         \  Morning tongue swab . after the peacock spread
         even hanging plants gag in disbelief ! for now
         recall how patch^eye riders drive scar issues
         into corbeaux plan.

               Still, why fault if distant partners stay ? take
         twitchy^pigeon shots at trust again | firm stand
         with rum ‘n’ horn at war, faux^self addiction.

                  \ Carrion in tubes ‘n’ seaweed tangled, nose
         run from cat fish^head accounts – who won’t choke
         back for buried gold suck up ? latch on the Soucouyant
         sar’silky line Good evening, handsome.

                                                                           - W.W.

                                        

       

          

                        

 

           ALL THE WAY                

                  A man sometimes goes out and sometimes stays home. 
           Sometimes the mind speaks, most times the mouth stays shut,
           trying not to scar with false feelings the soul
           which ain’t a Hollywood-gestural product.
           The Way’s nobleness is not a thing but is
           revealed by our letting the Way reveal us
           like the Moon emerging from the Earth’s shadow.

           ……………………………………………

            (from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)

 

 

 

                                                                               
                                                           "…the necessity to descend into hell in naked
                                                                  dress if one were to preserve heaven."
                                                                  – Wilson Harris, Companions of the Day
                                                                                             and Night

          
              Blue enamel dome . over run down pedals pound till
              wheels on rims send memos : tricks stirring in the home
              port bricks ! brain weed sargassum^like could back
              up.
                                                    Flailing, whose arms
              revive . saved by Mandarin ? markers like breast
              splash strokes in sea roped lanes | See?   high there
              off the wall consumer piping . braid^frighten so.

                                                            Free ways to feel
              providentially happy in any climate depend : breath
              short cut; how sucked in personation chests swell
              separate equal | brokers having fun with pawns.

                                                 +

              Up on planets new salt^spitting Arawaks show
              sign in : reStart rung Here | feathers ponder
              where to stall with grace . a bowl of soup J'ouvert;
              Hey!  roll before the po-po last^straw poking.

                    Risk transfer . @Myriam or Marie, ovenablers 
              gloved to settle Ibis^heart rate, cache ocean
              trace; jazz^like inventing therms.
           
                          Le désir à l’alliance leans in . spontanéité
              ship tight; gaze reset rites | come morning, one
              two land lines usually illumine themselves ~ Go
              for J. Desvarieux + vodoun perplexity.

                                                                       – W.W.

 

             

 

           BUD MOLSON'S WHITE DUNCE CAP

           Mountains are unmoved by whirlwinds, boulders by torrents,
           but both mountain and boulder await their next earthquake,
           And when your car lands in a ditch, Molson pulls you out,

           but when his mind’s proudest of its rut, he fucks you off, 
           and, if you ask him, we should line up all the homos
           and other rapists, all the murderers thieves and crooks
           (except hisBoys in the Senate) and shoot ‘em to hell

           where they belong, Jesus, it’s a neverending job,
           even where we live, the Best of All Possible Worlds,
           God's country

           …………………………………………………

              (from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)

               

 

     
    
             Halabi could give me no more ‘dope’ about Stew's progress                              
          Since my last session with him as a private client, when
          He had declared he meant to escape from ‘this fucking trap’,
          Whether of sex, drink, work or all three – or my counselling,
          Or the whole ‘game’ of pyschoolgy which he considered ‘full
          Of holes’ and ‘superior types who keep your arms folded’
          While drooling over the gossip of lesser mortals’ lives.

                                                 *

          Could i then now believe the delusional boy-man Stew
          Had volunteered to be a student of Enlightenment?
          Had Buddhism overnight become as fashionable
          As Yoga-poses and the pricey rags to strike them in?
          What was wrong with the boy (and with me for wondering what)?

                                                *

             But even in my vexed puzzlement, i heard my training 
          In Patent Symbology and Obviology sigh
          To my inner ear that Stew’s new path of spiritual
          Pursuits (even if only as research-material
          For a graphicnovel – about a Buddhist warrior!)
          Represented a wake-up call from my soul to my self
          To give up its recent trivial pursuits in favour
          Of a path more apt for a man rehearsing his last breath

          And i, what dead skin was i now peeling off like a snake 
          Squeezing through what strait-is-the-gate crack between which two stones?

               (from “fatima solagua arterra’s nudes” by Brian Chan)

 

 

 

           

             Native faith healers can frond^host so long
         only . the next hundred flanges are critical. Old roof
         corrugations flatten; city forming I-beams at street
         crossings scare the air | not comprehending tyre tonnage
         cane path plantars shamble.

                            In the forest of lidded eyes covenant 
         midwives hide | once they thrived catching balloons
         pierced by javelins of repulse, steel grey to blue;
         skin tissue sent flapping.                                            

                                      Unlike fiction about night killings,
         how island women strapless run; whose langue exotique
         bond split star, happy they got away gender^chic intact.

                                                ^

                                                   Though dreams through daze
         stay On . displaced, mark where^how down midstream
         souls give^take bare . Get up here! serve^poise pause. 

                                               Waist high in flight cross
         Orinocos, neck tattoos like guide maps | wait, what!
         thick under swarming reptiles ? + you’d like to speak
         to offshore management.

                                    Aarrh! so like the throat lust of birds
         flying into glass towers, wanting only one thing – course
         validation, gleaming Eldorado^like on the shelf. Source
         eyes . deep set, look after the pass.

                                                                       – W.W.

 

               

           

     

               THE LATEST EMPEROR

                   
                          ..you might never say "All is lost!"
                   but your children born here, sensing sure 
                   anguish behind the walls of your words,
             will do their emphatic faithful best,
             and fail, to have your shared silence voiced.

             But watch out for that son or daughter
                   who will fling the lid off your smoking
                   pot and up against your tribal yokes.
            That will hurt, like the fire that melts fear,
             but shine your myths into new mirrors.

                ……………………………………

           (from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)

  

         

                                 " : the dim senses of birth, the remote senses
                                      of death, the cold and hungry senses of love"
                                       - Wilson Harris, The Waiting Room (1967)

          Arrival . still clicks away, on sea rough days grab
          one device – your paddle board with flotation keys.

               Our doors ‘n’ windows closed, somehow the dust 
          gets in?  look closer . mist on the room mirror.

          Mood^swing practice helps . with the wallaba 
          bat in case the cave^safe light stops working;
          the dog starts barking.

               Elsewhere not read like cup sediment The mat
          he bled out on the ground, he bled out so, the blood
          thick so | believe! so au revoirs drain. Rinse off, if
          iPhone lulz you crave.

                                                   *

              Who could refuse with guilt^in wish a basket
          of puppies? We were meant to love, the card says,       
          from a pudding egg stuffer who thought first
          of flowers . eye wetting.

                       Through cracks in dreams our Babsies fly
          the caste house, leave the iron on | thinking, match
          found could inseam fail ? my body news^tagged
          Missing . like with snatch contractors ~^~~ so
          leaf last shed.

                               Greetings Eh-eh @ tear bread, lamb sauce;
          prayer walks now . okayy . off ol’goat look^back knees.
          Oiseaux peckin’inyuhjardin?  Aarrh! pommecythèrepy.

                                                                        – W.W.

 

             

             

 

            YOUR WORDS ARE ROUNDABOUT AND A LOT

            Boats, trains and airplanes take different routes, 
            yet, for one journey, all can be used;
            a road may be rife with curves and ruts,
            but we know it always leads us here;
            and, however winding a river,
            nous savons qu’elle se mène à la mer.

            Now no master or mere faber can    
            afford to consider his work done
            if he wants it to kiss everyone
            with a sunray’s impartial kindness,
            and each according to her or his
            degree of readiness for the kiss.

            ……………………………………

        (from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)

 

 

            I see – recalling Fitzgerald’s Gatsby’s recaller and
        Heyman's Love Letters:   You love me – because you told me so.
        – Are we sure, i now asked, we’re talking about the same Stew
        Galenza i knew in Albertory?    Graphic artist?
        The very same, I do assure, was the rapid reply.
         – He be once in my employ, in this very eatery.

           

            As a waiter then?  i asked, but the owner of the place
        Shook his head, as though indulging a child, and waved an arm
        From front to back to indicate the broad abstract contours
        And strong earth-tones spread across the walls of the restaurant
        And interrupted only by three wide brass-framed mirrors
        That amplified the spatial reality of the place.

                                                    *

           You're saying Stew did all that?     There wasn’t a single hint
        Of the female figures which had been Galenza’s forte
       (As far as i had gauged from the sketchbooks he had shown me)
        But perhaps those had been reduced to the ovals and arcs
        That softened the otherwise masculine verticalist
        Thrust of the lines and angles cutting through the walls’ earth-hues.

        Old-world bonhomme Halabi nodded proudly, his eyes closed,
        His closed lips turned down in an almost sentimental smile.
        When he re-opened his eyes, were there tears welled up in them?
        The man seemed to be chameleonically sliding
        Right before my eyes, between colours of temperament.

       
          (from “fatima solagua arterra’s nudes” by Brian Chan)

 

 

 

           

        Stilt men dressed like volcano deities launch 
        from the favelas, spiderly crimson strides / poui
        bosom stir^up cups, crossing land air sea / down
        Chippen Hill Parkway . bottom bunching. 

        Torso daub, soursop waist^wrap, head in bread    
        fruit balls – just go to show . while douen^haunt type
        sets perform Off page who taps conducting? 

                            * One view : back when tennis court  
        held cool ‘n’ safe they passed in law rope^skipping
        form | to feel the kalangang steel shake the wine
        glass flutter O my heart!
                                                      Such frenzy ! too bad
        they didn’t bank yesterdays in need reserve . store
        shifts for service entrance key ? ahead case
        files uploading.     

                                             ^
                          
                        Shipped to labour islands raised plight
        hands in the air, at night flamingo^strolled | bamboo
        exorcising dew^break . Koki-yo-koko lips so.    

                                  * One day imagine how! the ocean   
        jump^wave ends . belly foetus slosh, calabash hell
        ketch bailing.
                                          + One last wind . sky light
        open, platform halo verified ~ cane slash souls
        stitch^healed Trade News! source wings on
        time unfolding.
                                                         – W.W.

.       

           
                             [ In mem.  Gordon Rohlehr . 1942 – 2023 ]

          

           I SAY

           The limiting lister of learnt labels, a slave  
           of stamps not utterance, cannot conceive or feel
           The List’s absence as womb of Poetry’s lava
           or as pasture of freedom of the Other Voice
           that allowed the Master to plunder the other
           tongues of Europe, including his own tribes’ babbling,
           with an innocent spontaneity denied
           the slave freed who yet bows to The List’s fenced shadow.

           That style is voice, l’homme même, is the gift of guiltless 
           theft, a colonising annexure, a collage
           of influences bound to be betrayed and so
           put to the service of a wide unfettered mind
           itself in service to a surrealist world
           stubbornly fettered yet able to entertain

             ……………………………………

          (from “Readiness” by Brian Chan, 2013)