They rest on sunny days, their eyes closed

reminiscing times when words behaved better

and fetched every vowel you threw at them

The sun soars but they keep their eyes closed

for want of sweaty syllables to cool their

overheated brains, swarming with conundrums

conceivable ways to express their treasured thoughts

idealising distilled reality over ample provocation

Move, poets, wring wretched words from the fists of fighters

wave wands of revolution through televised toxic threads

forgo the right to remain silent

when everything we don’t say

already is used against anyone, everyone

grand grammar won’t terminate tyrants

postmodifying history never brought back the dead

Tense present, superlative future

Oh sapient sun, don’t burn our poets

let them linger, lust, love

yearn for the potency

to maim clauses

obstruct falsifications

amplify waves that modify

Burn away all shadows, dubitations

of salvation sunny side up

Inspired by the poem ‘Poets’ by Gabriel Moreno

I was browsing through The Passer-By/El Transeúnte, the bilingual book Gabriel released in 2018. I had trouble deciding which one to work with (much great stuff in there!) until I found these lines:

One must always keep a poet close/Like a vacuum cleaner or a loyal dog.

I instantly decided this was the one. To keep a poet close like a vacuum cleaner… Are we that necessary? Do we make such annoying noise? Are we shiny on the outside but dusty on the inside? Or as filled with love as a loyal dog?

After digitally talking to Shuku today, I changed the direction of my poem. I had only written the first stanza before we exchanged messages. After we did, I felt the urge to make the poets in my poem a lot more relevant than they were in the first stanza.

So many of you have over the years taught me about the world you live in, the brain that dwells in you, the injustices you notice, the things you care about. Let’s keep our voices being heard!

You’ll find another poem by Gabriel Moreno in Acumen including a link of himself reading the poem. You can listen to his music through this article in Atwood Magazine.

Illustration found in The Met open access art collection.

If you made it to the bottom of this page… Today is the last day of my chap book being free on Amazon.

No need to push

sweet nothings

in my ear

rose bread

a pool of coffee

purified sprouts

won’t tempt me

vanilla philosophies

are wasted on me

Me – a sour genius

I swim

in the harsh perfume

of chocolate bile

Central African power figures are among the ubiquitous genres identified with African art. Conceived to house specific mystical forces, they were collaborative creations of Kongo sculptors and ritual specialists. This example belongs to the most ambitious class of that tradition, attributed to the atelier of a master active along the coast of Congo and Angola at the end of the nineteenth century and identified with Mangaaka, the preeminent force of jurisprudence.
That power was represented as a presiding authority and enforcing lord or king. Its crowning element is the distinctive mpu headdress worn by chiefs or priests. The figure’s posture and gesture, leaning forward with hands placed akimbo on the hips, is the aggressive attitude of one who challenges fearlessly. Traces of a missing beard-a sign of seniority-survive in the form of nails along the contours of the chin. There are also vestiges of an abdominal cavity for medicinal matter that originally attracted the figure’s defining force. The various metals embedded in the figure’s expansive torso attest to its central role as witness and enforcer of affairs critical to its community. They document vows sealed, treaties signed, and efforts to eradicate evil. Ultimately, this work inspired reflection on the consequences of transgressing established codes of social conduct.

Photo and the text come from the collection of the Met museum. The poem is about temptation, and the description of this beautiful piece made me feel the combination could work. To be explicit: the chocolate and vanilla in the text refer to food and flavour, not to skin colour. Only after writing the poem I realised people could have that association.

My #NaPoWriMo day 3 was inspired by the prompt at nawowrimo.net, and a website a fellow participant shared. I’m pretty sure I didn’t use them the right way, but all is fair in love and poetry…

Have you ever fallen in love with a statue

undressed in front of it

begging for love

for life

for touch

needing its cool surface

to sooth your heart in heat

Have you ever fallen in love with a statue

written love letters you tore up

because the paper blushed

each time you exhibited

your deep desire

to embrace

fondle

linger

finger

arc

claw

scratch

scream

feel the impact

of being together

Have you ever fallen in love with a statue

longed to procreate

amalgamate

duplicate

vitiate

crossbreed marble with flesh

deliver perfection in dirty diapers

fix your flaws by eugenetic engineering

recrystallized carbonate minerals reforming your RNA

adding a relative resistance to shattering to the tissue of your heart

Have you ever fallen in love wih a statue

undressed in front of it

begging for love

for touch

Have you ever fallen in love wih a statue

realised you deeply desire

to be reformed

Have you ever fallen in love wih a statue

Did it duplicate

your perfect

gentle heart?

National Poetry Month has started! As always, http://www.napowrimo.net offers brilliant prompts and lovely community, and it will be my base to get inspired and stay sane during the month. Yesterday they introduced us to the open access art works of The Met. It’s amazing, and I’ll probably be sharing works of art from it throughout this month.

Object Details and link to the online museum

Title: Head and neck from a marble figure

Period: Early Cycladic II

Date: 2700–2500 B.C.

Culture: Cycladic

Medium: Marble

Dimensions: preserved H. 4 1/4 in. (10.8 cm)

Classification: Stone Sculpture

Credit Line: Gift of H. L. Bache Foundation, 1969

Accession Number: 69.61.1