
Screw convention,
flaunt exotic desires,
outlaw notions:
rebel.
Screw convention,
flaunt exotic desires,
outlaw notions:
rebel.
Catastrophic:
her favorite word,
her hunger was
to marry money.
Seduction of others’ loneliness
swims beneath oblique enigma.
Distance established,
thinking ourselves into
the empty universe.
Artificial Lady
I love you like sugarcane,
Come and keep me warm.
It’s all because of the love I have for you,
We are dancing.
I’ve been living peacefully,
I have done my best to no avail
I have suffered a disappointment.
.
Don’t forget the past
Beautiful woman.
Don’t worry me,
Love sickness,
Tell me the truth.
I am not afraid.
Remember me.
*Misumo Bo Tamo She - I Love You Like Sugarcane This is the first in a series of found poems constructed from the titles of Ghanaian Highlife songs from the 1960’s.
Imagined beings,
fantastical worlds,
existential sorcery.
Twilight mare:
primordial tendrils
of ancestral recollections.
The Big Bang of being born;
immediate disturbance in the universe
as you know it,
warped faith that
nothing halts the twin moons
of disappointment and despair.
Reactionary tides wash snake oil residue
of substances and words,
promising false bargains,
empty lies,
and distorted misunderstandings.
Growling hunger to know,
beneath the haze,
beyond the babble
of convention,
bottomed out
and finding faith,
seeking comfort
in one’s own
great heart.
Faint notions of another life;
possible,
if you were someone else.
Spontaneous combustion,
uncharted waters,
traditions be damned.