After Gary Butte: Poems, by John R. Lee

After Gary Butte

“So crossing the river
and walking the path
we came at last to Kumasi.”
– Kamau Brathwaite
​

The Merchant, by Gary Butte (St. Lucia). Contemporary.

Prologue:   The Merchant
​
Did he arrive at sunset’s orange hour
or with the anonymous midday bustle
markets busy before Sabbath--
and evening or noon height, him,
stranger with strange wares
looking for a berth
in the fabled city.

Who wants cantos from placards of bewildered widows?
Totems to soft bones of decimated embryos?
Androgynous puppets parading obscenely between certain jars?--
“Any credit for dark sayings of Babylon, Bhutan or islands of the sea?”

Fifth Avenue needs no merchandise of prophets--
            with their Greek vases
             their silicon tablets
             their first editions
             high speed subways and twin towers--
won’t spare a dime for this third world primitive
his ark of Mesopotamian innocence
his naive style.

The Way Up, by Gary Butte.

The Way Up

From Ur to Haran down the Crescent Valley to Egypt
back again to the terebinth trees of Mamre,
and the Canaanite was then in the land.
The Man came in the heat of the day
on their way to the boulevards and museums
the malls and stadia, suburbs and ghettos
to strange women and rich men’s catamites.

After, the plain of Siddim smoked like a cursed holocaust
​and salt pillars lined the road to Zoar.

The New Age, by Gary Butte.

The New Age

“city of gold,
paved with silver,
ivory altars, tables of horn.”
– Kamau Brathwaite

remembrances of ghosts:
            masks of indifferent hostility
            nightmares we had not imagined
            shame applauded across networks
            distractions at the frenetic tips of fingers--
                                                              privacy, thought, prayer
                                                                        ‘itation, Jah –
                                                                            banished.

A Kiss, by Gary Butte.

A Kiss

​“It was the bolero, Ramona, the bolero,
a kiss of jazz creole
lady with the Rita Dove lips,
not forgetting, Maritza
Andean pan flutes breathing reggae
at El Solar Casa Cultural in Bucaramanga --
Celia Cruz, Lady Day, Sesenne Descartes
Makeba, Piaf, Edith Lefel
souls many, so many, Ramona --
lovers scarved with rainbows
scattering galaxies out of sad earth
​raising for us pardons, benedictions, homecomings.”

Doors to Infinity, by Gary Butte.

Doors to Infinity

Turnstiles, tokens, trains
eternity of rails receding

Flirtatious oval eyes
retreating to masques of faces

The familiar loved
becoming stranger

You between the glass doors
echoing reflections

Your heart, furtive
​fervent, fugitive.

Animal Man to Angel, by Gary Butte.

Animal Man to Angel

“the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose” – Genesis 6:2


In the chronicles of giants
Fire loved a woman of earth
with peacocks at her feet
hibiscus through her locks
and deep dimples under her laughing--

when she betrayed him
(his fantasies bored her eventually)
for a one-boat fisherman and his spectacular nets
flung over green islands
and flying fish --
their son, confused between his elements,
took to the airwavesand broadcast himself Huracán
​furious against surf, hill
defiant lamp.

Morning Roosters, by Gary Butte.

Epilogue:    Morning Roosters

"and the feather, red
rooster, reminds us he
watches; " - Kamau Brathwaite

A rumour, and more than a rumour, of cockerels --
from Kumasi to tents of Kedar
from markets of Sichuan
to Port of Spain’s Savannah --

The great Comb that raised the world to the first sun
comes again with His plumes and spurs
comes to take for Himself a harem of a bride
from every coop and hen house of earth ̶

Egyptian Fayoumis, Japanese Bantams,
Rhode Island Reds and Blue Cochins
Guinea Hens and Creole Leghorns,
among the bridal caravan of pullets --

He comes of course, with morning
and trumpet radiance of the last sun.

John R. Lee

John Robert Lee is a Saint Lucian writer. His most recent publication is City Remembrances (Mahanaim, 2016). His Collected Poems 1975-2015 is forthcoming from Peepal
Tree Press (UK) in 2017.

Gary Butte is a Saint Lucian artist with several exhibitions to his credit.