?
does
he make
a fist of his
writing-fingers,
& stitch them into a
boxing glove or something
does he play hip-hop all day,
to drown the growl of
his midnight
Muse?
does he break pens and pencils
and bounce balls on walls in his
anger management classrooms?
or
salsa?
does he
learn salsa?
perhapsĀ heĀ mustĀ firstĀ recant:
unwriteĀ his writings. undream
theĀ dreamsĀ concretedĀ inĀ the
minds of men. plant a penitent
grove for tree trunks pulped to
mintĀ hisĀ wordsĀ intoĀ currency
perhaps he must first hang his conscience
in the yard, cremate the cadaver,
cast the poisoned ashes
down the gullet of
Gurara Falls
and
emerge
the emeritus,
to Tell Freedom in
banal books & songs & tales
that rumble potbellies with ribald laughter
*snapfingers*
that must
be it
That must be it indeed.
This should be in Badlisha’s archive of African poetry.
Beautiful.
Thanks, StNaija…
That is the only way.