From inside
the sky’s warm
open throat,
the leather flask
full with biting
darkness
rips
and dusk
is poured
over
the crest
of the naked
waves
as they scatter
my mind
and the horizon
in glass shards
—on the tongue.
And I reach
out and scratch
off peels of peach,
rust
& rhum.
They won’t stay,
they won’t stay
I know.
&
in the horizon
scatters
my mind
down the sky’s
warm
open throat.
—
Jean-Michel Alvin Hatton was born in France from the confluence of roads and currents, from an American father born in Brazil and a French mother in the veins of whom runs the Seine river. At age 19, with a West African rucksack bought in the Parisian métro, and soles itching for the world, Jean-Michel left for the US, where he studied History and Theology. After a decade in Turtle Island, he returned to France where he pursued a carrier in accompanying French and international students at college level to further garner their wings with feathers for exciting flights through life.
