Eye witness heard Satira bounce twice on the spring
board ̶ gripping her phone . releasing fabric tear. A foreign
correspondent recalls : The elephant in the city you ride
nobody sees, lip bit whispers. And that was it : cloud permit,
lung swell . stay sail up . wind rush.
Old Kaie's foam spread mooring rocks :
bundle wet wrapped in savings > from up there delivery.
So sunned we called her Tarby; so bright she flew to London
on scholarship and ultimatum . married . appointment in New
Zealand. Two grown girls came back to visit Mom's first
village, smiles of circle full on caramel faces.
Heard Bolo passed . the village rubbish truck man? relayed
Pavarotti tracks in his bath room after work : chord
belt strong . tossed streamer-like arpeggios. Arm lift
soaring searchers, breath masters, of the old universe.
Quiet touch smart swiper : so the chip subcools the muscle in
mouse moves.
Bug winged drone probe here for sky shield warping ̶ source
close call, line inland bare holding.
– W.W.
SPIRAL LEVEL
There is a certain moment of hell,
at whichever level
the soul finds itself,
blind no more and so no longer lost
when, standing at the last
gate of its latest
stage of accustomed darkness and pain
and about to climb in
to a clearer zone,
it turns to cling to what it has known,
and falls or steps back down
afraid to be seen
betraying those it must leave behind,
afraid of being bound
by freedom's new bond
to the choice between that groove and this
ecstasy, that stasis
and this chance to rise.
(from "Within The Wind" © by Brian Chan)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 