Sugarcane Artists and Fear of Stones

Thanks to Anomaly (Caribbean folio guest edited by Richard Georges) for publishing two of my poems in Issue 28. Check them out here. The latest versions of the poems are below.

Sugarcane Artists
He was a jus’ come artist,
they whispered behind
grizzled green yellow fingers.

But sometimes the best lessons
are self taught—
no more letters need come after
the name we decide to own—
a university degree may take us no further than the
arduous 360 degree trek we took, to find ourselves
sliding back to zero, back at square one.

He was quietly confident;
courageous—
sugarcane raw talent.
Demons exorcised in
furious, cane-cutting,
cathartic cutlass strokes
on blank white canvas.

He taught me to see—
bravely mix colours; blue
violet, black, white, yellow, red
to make a brown boy’s body live;
paint with a violently emotional brush
dipped into the bright brash palette
of lineage and my view of my world.

Fear of Stones
I never thought I would have to fear stones—
like Kei’s Miss Mary boy, Mark;
like the heat seeking stray dogs,
the indigents, bold and persistent;
all pelted plenty.

Fear of stones—

like my Father, after his head
caught a missile at Carnival;
like the village after the river
batted storm-bowled boulders.

Metaphorical stones
(rocks from ages cleft for me)
these have landed hard for sure,
(built you a whole road not to follow)
but broke no bones.

As with objects
of dread or envy,
or things in the way,
obliterated by fire,
or cutlass courts,
perhaps this was yet another
innate island initiation; inevitable.

Yesterday I faced my first flying stone—
one I am implicated in choosing—I flinched,
held out flat hand as shield, even though
I knew only in games and good books can
paper conquer rock—

[Breathe out]
[Breathe in]

I’m thinking I must turn to Jakuta
or invisibly vibrating Stone. I hope
it will take me to the end
of this poem to free me
from throw(n)-stone phobia.