FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN

 

                
            Her prayers after sex-nightmares helped her forget
            Or rather not recall too well the details
            Of the rage she’d felt at losing all control
            Over the way she’d wanted to share her flesh
            – Not with them animals dress-up people-ish,
            As she, while still a child, once described pictures
            Of the characters in Beatrix Potter’s
            Terror-tales of power + powerlessness
            Designed, she later felt, to make children wise
            To the ways of the world as Final Version
            Of Nature cruel for both beast + person :
            Was there a clear distinction between the two?

        (from “Raponani” . a verse novel by Brian Chan, 2023)

 

 

               
   

            First time buyer, divert ! the link with saviors
            claiming Estate reSurrect ensured; the forest pact
            with Tractors, clause for Trunk snap proceeds.
                                                                          Tree canopy
            removed Come, come! au Ciel log in . earn from Him
            clear.

            Sump pipes on islands sidetrip bad flow energy.
            School over Gang up . In the Castle of your Sins
            find Love | iCloud sent.

            The sound of fries fat sizzling ~ not the baker
            of wedding cake ~ tips lips off.
                                                               After the funeral
            going through her husband’s things What’s this
            a condom doing? in his office boot | mourning
            stopped.    

                                                *    

            Nor those who stop For Patria at nothing . Turn
            run the other way ! they hacked the necks off
            neighbors singing | blood bond^like stand ground
            pressures . zinc roofs mon Dieu rip away.

            Blades falling off old windmills ! unheard of
            here, they’d swear like Dutch glaze makers; 
            daughters dimpled with devotion, womb space
            saved . For new Vermeers.

                                                             – W.W.

 

         

       

          

 

           YUH RAP SO (1.6)

           The Cons -fessional + -quistador were twins,
           One a version of the Inquisition’s stink,
           The other an embodiment of the gene
           Of colonising fascism, power gone
           Sour but feeling sweet as power over
           An invented Other: the bad half-brother;
           The unfuckable sister or fucking bitch
           To be locked to her cage of your moral rage;
           Your neighbour whose garden has outgrown the fence
           That keeps you good neighbours; your own innocence
           Perverting itself into wars of jealous spite.

               (from “Raponani” by Brian Chan, 2023)

 

               
           Our road kills pass nowhere close to Happening
           Now flash flood | or shelter chattel you could hire
           along with goat ‘n’ children fleeing army
           startover fire . rear ranking so.

           Blood finding out ‘n’ down the mouth What if
           the satisfaction felt right? of a motionless caiman
           caught the sweep of the City Market clock; hands
           stopped in culture shock.
                                                       Nothing our Walcott
           paint tubes couldn’t fix . his billowy sea grape
           news : Crusoe mending net, fish oil tomorrow
           haul yuh cuirass.

                            \ Waterfall . river . creek ~ clueless
           how romance consumes we shadow faith in
           fashion follow ~ ocean found | native ties
           like for jaguar, pirate stained teeth left.

                                           *

           Seriously, how to shop^keep these shores ? old
           harbour planks, crab crossing crowd; plantation
           fat pipe need; nakedness with On ‘n’ off leaf.

           Dog heat + dog bowl + poodle pompom – only
           in the coin^count chamber | under the troolie
           folding roof Where's your main breaker?
           mormon callers ask.
                                                    \ iCard hard, pick
           axe all you want; flesh ‘n’ spirit rent make
           room for whole coarse graining | Hey, hey
           wait! nah . breathe the blue . chill drink
           nah.
                                                      – W.W.

                                            

                

          

        

             YUH RAP SO (1.5)

             Not freedom of choice but unfree perverse will,
             Dilys decided, after months of research
             Into Trauma, is what triggers hell on Earth
             Or Naraka’s stoic sense that all life is
             Hell’s hot winter . set, writ, no why, no because,
             Just an inescapable meaningless trap
             Like the brand-new university, perhaps,
             Where she was pursuing Liberal Studies
             & Ant–apology (Understanding Us
             As Others – them–ants)

             (from “Raponani” by Brian Chan, 2023)

                                                

 

                
            When Dilys was conscious of the crude cartoon-
            like figure that kept rearing its head in her
            Mind’s secret caverns for punishing torture
            – A dark blind Cyclops draining her sex’s eye
            Of its power that might help his start to see –  
            She realized that she had to pity and
            Forgive all of Nature’s pain or else be damned
            For being blind herself: to her Lord’s simplest
            But hardest-to-live defense of all sinners
            Who know not what they do + so will do it.

     (from “Raponani” . a verse novel by Brian Chan, 2023)

 

 

                                  
                                                               
                                                          "A log must learn to bleed, to fly,
                                                          to be an animal. Hare of God"
                                                     – Wilson Harris, Companions of The Day
                                                                                and Night" (1975)

               The worlds we build get wiped at the end
           sewered by movers hot for results . stressing
           lamb to saddle | violin fingers unwrap the lunch
           break of physicists.
                              “Lady juggling chainsaws, please!
           Not here, now.”

           Long as it climbs unnoticed on the trellis 
           sperm sleep normal | concern in the pouch
           Dept . accounts tadpole^like not adding back
           up.

           Air wells are not for body disposal, this young         
           widow reminds all . with child wake night
           gap tending | what bed ‘n’ breakfast code
           this . left to scan ? knife spread spoon lift
           off.

                                          +

           Post offices are shuttering; grandsons prefer
           the fast car crash on screen . scream Loser!
           thumb pressure low. Yes, Go! again.

                                            / News spot . content
           high like kite ! about nous grain slow seedling;
           iMobile, blood will hose blood . thin veins
           for bounty.
                                 / Chip ‘cross the road ~ wheels
           brake^hiss midriff glancing; wait ‘til the ocean
           signals pilot sound track lighting | balans
           Balancer! what living takes.
                                                             – W.W.

 

              

              

          
              YUH RAP SO (1.3)

              Dilys used to admire that woman’s bitter
              Brass balls crying out for you to forgive her
              The very trespasses she badly flaunted:
              In her, Dilys recognized one more dogged
              Staunch Catholic + – resolved to be not that
              Holy, that haunted – determined to devote
              Her life to that Lord who at least loved his whores
              Despite + because of that fire in their wire
             (The Gospel according to Calypso Rose)
              Which every nun (Dilys had met Diderot’s)
              Worth her salt needs still to stroke now + again

               (from “Raponani” by Brian Chan, 2023)

 

 

              
          Digits pure bit fixtures sure . misses the pluck
          as bowl hands whisk fate numbers ~ ever since
          the globe bees stop @flowering ~ combat brows
          horizon eyes.

                                \ Of course, It is written! matters.         
          See Shakespeare who triggered Rebellion in the 90s,
          it might interest Androids to know.
                                                                    Line hard
          Why you dressed up so, Miss Silverstein ? sheet
          white, quotations in head garland + ankles
          like homework notes swollen.

                                                 ^    

          Planet verified ! nude chips don’t recognize
          the nude, hibiscus bulb updates | on the school
          bus riders steer pause Send . the speed past
          air horn pastime.

                                                ^
       
          How then to shield sun miracles ! at stake
          our central intelligent engines that stream
          turn vitals on to screens . down Skoden Wagwan
          cool text slopes; constricted so.

                                     \ The tremor when planes
          ploughed into the towers made dull our built
          in body shudders.
                                             Brush fire browning      
          forest fascia Arrgh! + paper white bills pecking
          at appetizers off the table Arrrgh!

                                                               – W.W.

       

 

         YUH RAP SO (1.2)

                                            While trying to keep up
         With the latest variations on the theme
         Of Modernity as obvious summa
         Of evolution and as flaccid platform
         For men’s next potent projection to the stars
         – trouble is, Thomasson now thought – there are no
         idealists left to pay attention to
         any stars but the cheapest in the long run
         the most expensive while the nearest free one
         Earth’s reliable source of light-energy
         is back-burnered to an old ring in the sky.

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

 

               
          
           Who wasn’t a gladiatorial slave
           Or uniformed whore like her in the phony
           Label-enforced empire of abstract money
           Imposing the materialist belief
           In veiled towers of power over all life?
           Thinking stuff like that, she would wish she’d never        
           Learnt to think at all but had stayed regular
           Like the other Sisters not constipated
           By the Big books they wondered why she needed
           Still:  wasn’t she done with University?
           All them whys + wherefores a blessed pity!

       (from “Raponani” . a verse novel by Brian Chan, 2023)

 

                          
                  
                                       "the incomplete discovery of the world
                                        in the blueness of its delicacy…"
                                              – Wilson Harris, Heartland (1964)

               
            Who can sense purpose ? in the buffalo first
            thundering the earth | at centers of yearning wind
            swerves riffle clothes line devotion.
 
                                    / Fork ready, our orchid care
            takers wait at cloud^fills for buried souls, corpse
            past life reheating; fault lay.

                           / Children playing near the manatee   
            pond learn not to stare strangers in the face;
            crows talk to crows – from the bus stop they will
            shadow you verklempt ‘n’ easy.

                                              +

            Up from desert strand ? gender slash intact
            Tell us everything . this way, speak to the cameras.
            Bitch dream ! over ‘n’ over sand snake binders
            inside cicada night court.

            Boxes of warriors ferried on a thousand
            shoulders, streets choked | iPhone bystanding
            swipe new fertile points . vinyl scratch
            ol’ sperm hits on parade; heart hold.

            Your face means nothing Not unveiled. Lamp
            constancy I know no other shade chill out
            wood fires | always something there to remind
            you . robed men pray^hawking in their beards.

                                                          – W.W.

 

              

           

 

 

             YUH RAP SO (1.0)

             That Freda liked listening to Robb’s radio
             With its shortwave portals to other foreign
             Tongues + songs + News (This Is London Calling)
             & suchlike distractions of propaganda
             (But the Internet not yet) made him wonder
             Whether his baby was then city-ready:
             But there, her otherness-rainbows would fast be
             Fleshed out as Fun or verbosely aborted,
             Coming true – dreams, love – or coming through – delayed
             Emigration-permits 

                   (from “Raponani” by Brian Chan, 2023)

 

 

              
           Advantage rungs for mango pluck scale so
           our legs splay favor bad | dreams ‘n’ fears shuck
           this, take that storm ocean horde^like our starry
           drift nature.
                                                         / Evening lime
           calls assume all snakes respect the rules
           of the garden  > core the apple, curl round
           next the tail ! you don’t have to Like it.
           Smarmy business.

                                            ^ 

           In the city house the Expats rented Ma said
           they worried about scowls or smiles crossing
           local lanes. The heel of cows?  in black sauce
           made to simmer promised pleasure Fingers
           again!
                                                       / Molecule dance
           break high . place + order worked till missing
           the space bar at their zoo they left our jungle;
           snap not so Ma let go her wish^serving virtue.     

                                            ^

           Village huddle . father selling daughter shares
           how this could happen ? yield^trust petals flat so
           to this day pesticide removes the ring.    
                                                            / No rope plain
           text explaining . remains papaw^like left outside
           for seedy carrion beak House keeping!

           Borders wired Agua Agua! midday salting
           meat; night wraps cold around Turn back
           extremities | futures moan so even the cactus
           males reach for female blankets. Spine deals.

                                                     – W.W.

 

               

             

 

 

 

           YUH RAP SO (0.9)   

           He had grown up with death all around him, yet
           None of the wheel-crushed dogs + cats he had known
           In the streets of Georgetongue had prepared his bones
           For their rattling recognition of his fate,
           A recognition now felt as a fit, swift
           & everlasting at once, with its fevers
           Rushing through his postsomnial brain to leave
           Their punctures + scabs + scars as record and
           Rehearsal – of things gone + things gone beyond

               (from “Raponani” by Brian Chan, 2023)

 

 

 
             

           Later Othello’s wife’s fate of Married Life  
           Made Dilyd toss out her own lace-handkerchiefs:
           When white lace, in this or that starched trim, began
           Jutting out into her eyes in the haven
           Of her Order, she begged Bishop Gee to let
           Her go to teach little bucks to read + write

           Down in the Bush up in the Interior,
           One more rung to High Heaven on her ladder
           Of God-lust odd in an otherwise docile
           Gyirl trying her best to keep a low profile –
           More so after the thing behind the sea-wall
           Which had made her flesh feel like a cannibal’s
           Bloody treat + turned her off all males for good,
           Including her lover, though he too had bled
           As part of the wages of their lapse of lust
           As shameful for its haste as for the rapists’
           Voyeur-into-vampire perversion of it

      (from “Raponani” . a verse novel by Brian Chan, 2023)