"Had seen it before but now saw it again
as if he had not seen it before and as though
a new religious feeling (and response on his part)
arose from it."
̶ Wilson Harris, "Companions of the Day
and Night"
I.
Of all this how much happened because he wanted us
so much to dazzle? through heat down stingy brim crown
governing days : Sunday drizzle making stroll thoughts scurry : it
might ruin his patent leather dues, washed pressed again church
shirt. Coin saver, bruising us : Be more.
On his bicycle air field straight ahead, the public road in strips,
our father could not know finch blue tendons had taken leave
of his fences; the village stilts . bitter rooting back and mud
dam! forth.
He'd pedal high into sky canyons, far out to humorless sea wind
expansion. This was the path in trance he cleared for us, his way
out . full chest folding hug without ̶̶ But why you always so?
As night spread straw, shrugged insect bites . room lamp
hush urge, his lust stern rites : Ma's receiver shift would yield
hold heave the maroon banana . green peel and flagrancy.
II
Braid tight high fibres recognize their kind ̶ what vines
face climbing find ̶ the tree the river mountain rock.
III
At gravity's prompt home wages paid, one Welcome
nod was all : received : head still hard shoulders back to crop
sown brooding days.
He loved to hear ̶ sight in retreat; does humming calm
as done hand shakes? ̶ how we'd turned out in capitals : London,
New York : so far from where the leaf blade willed . cane to punt
bind grind molasses pointing . crystal vessels away.
Lot marks of wrist ̶ who would believe some cursive
tissue dwelt inside this script? Own man who tended dreams
in tamarind, the stone prepares . sensing ̶ fates unclasped,
last twilight ceding ̶ eyes dried might watch the glow pass on.
- W.W.
- In mem C.A. –
THE POINT'S CIRCLE'S POINT
To be thankful for the pointing points
of breath itself is life itself given
flesh of pointed mind and rounded heart
̶ though but one man's, the whole universe's;
only one point in time, its centre
in floating detached love for the circle
it has seeded and allowed to sprout
dreams of its own, with witnessing dreamers
̶ as a naked Winter tree still bears
the eager memory of the return
of her dreamt and dreaming fruits of Love's merci.
Look, the tree is empty but also full
of the buds of bird wind cloud sky and
a man's eyes becoming its fruit, the egg
of the Sun unyolked by clouds, only
to have its light filtered regardless pure
across a morning so still you know
it is still dreaming and still being dreamt
̶ as a bird quivering at the peak
of an evergreen, affirms ̶ in its flesh
of gratitude for wings ̶ that dream-flight
by both glad circling and eager centering.
(from "Within The Wind" © by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 