Rites: After Mosera no news to me, news of my death though telebituaries trace coordinates of relative history news-clips flatter their distortions and those who loved me research the corners of archived regrets fictions of our passings to see the first passions of hand-in-hand, intimate desires, before we seduced ourselves with stupid, silly distractions -- no news to me, news of my death among the shades of Sheol. in the end was the hating word and that was that — I knew the track to end the world under the almonds cruising scissor-tails a beckoning horizon of veined ocean — but you came, a curious brown heron stood like a sea-stone on one foot fixed me to your insistent life until I let the fool of a man go drown. it wasn’t all needles and cracked hos the far city, homeless under aqueducts wrestling filthy strays over pizza boxes — in the beginning, beautiful companions jazz clubs, hit shows, late-night coffee and smoke in penthouse studios names and faces of the day, Basquiat on the wall soap-opera romantics with heiresses the predictable, worthless fantasies — those who loved me I broke under the guilt on my fatherless back. Talitha, errant mythologies notwithstanding
truth be told, Mystery calls through traffic and sound-systems of Jeremie Street on Friday evening, looks over the shoulder at you on the pedestrian crossing, is the unknown number ringing your phone in a bank queue -- when you fall beyond dream into alien, torrid shadows Mystery is the somehow familiar, tender wing that lifts you to Himself. John R. Lee Saint Lucian writer, broadcaster, teacher, Bible preacher John R. Lee has a recent publication, Collected Poems: 1975-2015, from Peepal Tree. Click here to learn more. Ras Mosera is a self taught artist and one of the most celebrated in St. Maarten. He paints from a multilayered Caribbean perspective, focusing on people and the everyday ironies inherent in life. His paintings show widely throughout the Caribbean islands and around the world. He also loves music and says he has a "jazzy mind."
2 Comments
Angela Emmanuel
2/19/2018 10:19:20 am
I love this poem. All the best Sir....as the old life dies new buds florish into endless days, that's it!
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J R Lee
2/27/2018 06:31:44 pm
Thank you Angela
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