Caribbean: A Poem by Charles Bryant

Escapism is a bad thing. Or is it? It is the gateway to creative art, that much is certain. This poem is a meditation on day-dreaming. And how day-dreaming can become a meditational aid. And how dream and reality are so similar, but the former lacking in the latter’s somewhat bumpy ride. Day-dreaming is bad, slothful, leads one into inappropriate habits. But the man who stays at home gives the world little reason to regret his lack of adventurous spirit. While politicians, warlords, empire builders in their more concrete achievements bring quite often ruin and devastation upon us all. The man who stays at home has as good a time as the inveterate restless traveller. But I would say that, wouldn’t I? Caribbean penis always decently sheathed, erect or flaccid. always deliciously full. thick at rest. hardly any thicker when at play. constant in every way. great muscularity with innocence. power, like his penis, sheathed. always smiling he confronts the world, modestly accepts its adulation. white and brown and black we ride the surf of the constant Caribbean. after tea, before the sudden setting of the sun hand in hand and hand on waist we wander the footprint margin of the southern shore. limestone, metamorphic, sedimentary unpredictable volcanic the island chain lazily from Haiti to Venezuela describes its Caribbean arc. magic islands of the Americas far-distant magic islands calling me to inundation of the whirling senses among your coral reefs and waving palms. in the …
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