Ravi Shankar



Eddies hasten in rivulets of foam that over
time will gnaw into ground rock sure as drill
bits, but now froth like a bridal veil tossed 

from ferry to flail against algae-encrusted
outcroppings with the sound of a thousand
whispers modulating in urgency - over again 

and onwards - how wind shears the surface
of planks of light to leave burbling rumors
that water in motion defies its own finitude. 

There beyond a crook, increased ad libitum
into tumult, terror, sheer boundlessness - 
a horsetail's giant, discordant spray roars.

Blues Beneath the Blue Mountains

Mi haffi grief di passing oda porridge man,
him feed a whole heap a wi pickney -

not jus porridge, but ackees, cod, cho cho, juice fro cane -
Mi waan smaddy teck ten bwoy stead 

dole man help raise mi frum Spanish Town
to a purah ting, shiny purl inna Jah's earlobe. 

I'n'I seen livity downpress pon mi head...
Why dem ginnal baldheads play a card pon mi?

A way ya know, ya bumbo claat ragamuffin!
Dey ken even teck yuh steada him! Gwine! 




Bifurcated into multi shank rippers fitted
with tungsten steel alloy tips and a corrosion
resistant dozer blade with carbide strip  

cutting edge, armed by six hydraulic arms
to level land, grade quarries, pile silage,
push snow, clear shrubs, erect earthen  

barriers, dig moats, gouge burnt-out 
vehicles from roadsides, construct field
fortifications, flatten homes to stone.  

There, tree-stark under crisscrossing
power lines, twilight a gradually graying
voile, its big treads still. Utter as tableau.