Every poet is a god, Every poem is a dog from hell, Every kind of poet will imagine tremendous things of themselves, A mind assassin on Tuesdays, A wordsmith in summer, A gift to nuns in winter, A Buk hater, A Hemingway worshiper, A John Fante satirist. But you know you are better off sensing … Continue reading Every Poet is a Dog From Hell
Theoretical frameworks, Too many karmas, Too many fetishes, I am now apprentice to my colonizer, Things unknowable coming to boil, A desperate wickedness, Things you cannot tell just by Looking at the smile on C. Columbus. Gently we waft, In this grasping staging of academia, Acid heads, Blonde heads, Bald heads, Black heads, Block heads, … Continue reading Academese
Twilight finds me a white man again, in a bit of a pickle. And in this painful occupation, In this second skin, In this adopted sepulchre of mine, If ever I prospered well at this classic treachery, As I do sometimes on my evening prowls on the fish market street, Where I finally become something … Continue reading Hank, If Ever I Were A White Man
I ate the yams from the land where brother bled to death. And then I heard, In their nightly gossips, When sluggish shadows of occultic old men with yellow eyes, Owning thick histories, Spoke a strident Igbo. They camped about a single hurricane lamp, And a wash hand bowl on a low table. He was a … Continue reading Land of the Rising Sun
In a trifling middle seat, On a travesty yellow airplane, A girl with perfect barren eyes is crumpled, Her exhales fog the glass. She is soaking wet. A purple bag strap bisects her frame, Between her tiny breasts. Her nipples, erect against her top, She is dying from the general cold.