for L _ C _ & _ Z
These days Vijinie and I have reached our city limits ̶ which
way through district road rim crumbling partners duty lottery
bound : harmonium sold.
We haven't felt the Kaieteur
rocks since our first river rapids . blade flash in Carib sync;
strapless soundings past fall stairs to myth made treasure
caves : worth more our weaving lives.
Dreary one grows at home page formatting ̶ Holy gladioli!
bursting pods!
The issue for us now: destination, destination.
A grand hotel links transit fare and parks in the dark suggest
a squirrel furtivity; back seats we never felt inclined . the inter
screen net face ̶ her daughter's constant touch place, Vijinie
frets ̶ fixed stare inset hand holding.
Bird nest away on virgin island?
Sky grey surveillance might type
set hawks side track our orbit path : seat choice discreet lips
bite grip the other till Come in now! some desk watch sniffs
and rails our mount rush Kilmanjaro.
D'accord : plateau for out source leap clear found.
Now comes the hard
part : deep breath savings . moves that suit space simulations
for our planet wide arms glide ~ the life sole purposed soaring
synth : Amalivaca!
Flight control : you won't believe ̶
how attendant we are to loved ones safe on the ground.
– W.W.
CALL
Now I must be content with the flesh
only of your voice through this plastic
hollow at my ear that tastes the salt
in your laugh and swallows the silence
gluing our words of resignation.
But no complaint: never too much pain,
always just enough; and we will keep
magneting ourselves into words
that amplify our avid missing
of each other until we arrive
at that moment waiting to use us
as only one of its many rhymes
by which it will prompt itself to be
more itself, without apology,
and uncover itself, without shame.
How else can it be? We are born of,
and into, overlapping desire,
and out of such mutual dreaming,
this egg of disembodied yearning
is one day bound to translate as flesh.
(from "Scratches On The Air" by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 