My first harmattan in six years,Wafts and sails like a canoeOn lonely waters: quiet of ripples,With zero fishes or mermaids in view. The cold heat burrows in the nostril,Digging for ore, flesh, and gold.Through wire nets and iron bars, australWinds shimmy and blow, rudely and bold. Faraway carpenters nail and hammer,School children fill the air with shrill laughter.Rumbling generators spit soot ejaculate;a Bronze Mannikin in … Continue reading My First Harmattan
(For Dami) Gavel banging, stiletto walking,A floating ponytail: pulled backLike an obsidian lake, shimmeringAcross powder floors, darting from black, Like a phantom, headed to the operaOf filing cabinets and swiveling chairs.She lodges herself, in the moon’s umbra,All five feet of her, like silky prayers Tangled in satin dresses. Pointed chin,Edging for the grasp of a finger’s tip,Like a copa glass aches for cask-aged gin.Pearly eyes … Continue reading African Daisy
Trying to be the volumeIn a perforated space.Water and raffia basket,Cigarette smoke to air.Candlelit dinners andMoonless night dancing,Bottomless virgin mojitosAnd empty clear glasses.Canine deities, revel in loveToo. They lap at shedding furTracing the edges of lust,With their slobberingmouths, full of desire.Would it not satisfy youTo bite, not bark?To bare an aching tongueInstead of plunging fangs.When I lap your neck,It tastes of brimstone.Yet it begs to … Continue reading The Eulogy of Desire
-Oluyemisi Oladejo SUBJECT: Feedback on Your PPT for Urbanization and Development Conference Dear Vanessa, I hope this email finds you well. I have reviewed your slides for the Urbanization and Development Conference presentation, and I wanted to offer a few suggestions. The slides appear a bit congested. Instead of reproducing all the information in our original paper, you should highlight only the key points. This will make … Continue reading A Bite of Yesterday
-Kolade Wale Kabir Adele Home is where love has planted itself;body and soul –home is the morning sun, softtender Home is water lily shining brightin dry afternoons / home isGranny’s arm,soft lullaby, creaking of cricketsfar away in the nightreminding you that it’s December. Continue reading Home
ArtisansQuill| Celebrating Wordcraft 