after the vacation, the kneeling for friends who'd otherwise not like us if we were standing, after the first communion of the year, after we've said all the bad things about the artists and writers we can only love in secret, how collaborations are not possible but can we please fuck on January 5th? after … Continue reading chang’e 4
reading them, the ones who kept diares,you know the silly listening of an approachingdandora train on the rails? willfull suicides?preoccupied with the same thing:let's call it something else—mousebirds;tangerines; oh-this-hour; sukari ngutu—it has been years without you, you fucker,niko Nairobi, Umoja.
to wonder, for a while, these inclinations,not the beating of the heart, nothing close to that,not the perfect moon out there,not even the love of a mother,not the comfort of a memoir,still, the noir, the black and white of you,& now that it is donewe bow and we plead alleagiance to no nation.
to prepare for your own monster,we ask. and then we're not.
This new contempt, new freedom, how you announce it in every room. If your body was not as fluid as the logic of dreams? This art of tragedy you have invented for us, you with your photography, me the lesser of the two; a poet. This immersion therapy you claim lovemaking will never solve, nor … Continue reading drowning
Before the police comes the gangs, the hunters, the marauders, men with stockings over their faces, like characters who want to be in an Amy Yamada fantasy, with leather whips designed for small animals, rare cockerels and children. The tattoos on my back are estuaries, black kink. Lands and valleys that were once possible. I’m … Continue reading scenes from a dream
the barbarians, goliath, alexandria,all these libraries, the memory of not,karoli and fid q, the argonauts,vacations in malindi, dreaming of a stingray,how is it that i remember, mkataa kwao, when kwao is a chord in a brubeck lost track--the curve of those bones, the bald head,nothing else beyond that, what will we do with ourselves, tzara,will … Continue reading recent memory
I have no allegiances. I have no English to speak of. I do not know where I come from. I have tried interpreting the fathers to Swahili, Leaves of Grass and Kaddish. Came up with nothing. For years now I have laboured on translating the 17,000 lines of Utenzi wa Rasi li Ghuli and found … Continue reading so, james.
this is for benjamin clementine & further afield. butterflies. & ivory keys.
we are out: in need of plums, sugar has informed all our decisions, since birth, isn't that right. & what is that psalm, or job, so none of those catechism classes, oh james, how i come & go, what want, what apologies, the book of & the book of, see where we are now, unredeamable. … Continue reading james
which could mean searing. seeing. what is the distance? which could mean dreaming & the time. yemeni, the med, what are they doing to us in libya? why must we suffer again, these black bodies, we gather. what are kites? so seeing. drowning. kiik. & caste. ah. kaffirs. the distict. what is it? forsaken, dirty? … Continue reading seas