I. Hills roll unto hills hills behold hills the crow perches— an ocean of sootcarpets the whiteness of earth.
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Hands. .h.i.therto apart stretch in unison
to save what is left
of the nemesis of heart— hatchlings of sorrow
peep out of the broken edge— charade of apostolic vagabonds.
Maggots of the aftermath these are which crawl the twin dunghill
which serve me as cheek.
Even when the falconer is nurturing the beaks of a.s.sault putridity is the melody of my soul like this rain which bears semblance to my grief.
II. The nettle stings— the flesh rebels
the chameleon of heart clasps empty hands in the air invoking fire
then retires to cover
in the upside-down bowels of a mortar.
Mortars that have seen all the mess
will be torched by the heralds of rain—
I recant the legend of the yam
which wrecked the virginity of the soil then gave the soil a farewell of leaves eloping with the farmer
to the death awaiting its clan.
III. Here, a barnful of sin offerings my ailment defies all treatments bretton woods" prescriptions oriental concoctions
Agony-land, agony-child
all I"m asked is to sit and stare they"ll bring me my grave in bed—
father, save me from this rain of sorrows.
They found what belonged to no man and they swore to vanity the land is to be sheared
sh.e.l.led and skinned—
Vertical horizontal spherical iconographies of
disorder and disorders rain
The man in me bids me stay through the tragic harvests of Negro obedience:
my eyes turn bitter cola my cheeks walnuts...
The hunger will linger on the scars will not heal—
I"ll be here by the world"s corner exiled from the rituals of my clan
watching a commonwealth of bitterness emerge as monument to a senseless past.
IV. Divination knocks
odu configuration surfaces on the tray of my art:
A TRAGIC OPERA HAS GONE TO TOWN.
Night is daytime, night rain is pay-time, rain
thunder is elegy for the doers, thunder.
Iron bends iron stone splits stones small knives, forked sticks
are growing on the fingers of patience"s patients.
Fetch us the medicine-man who cures all maladies with
a dose from the long bra.s.s gourd…
V. Nothing is hidden from their sun, nothing,
it licks the secret samples the scheming.
Even when our sight is sealed with black blankets of night— we await the promise
we applaud the storm revealing the beast.i.tude of reigning fowls
It will yet rock the conscience of the eaters
more eggs will fall announcing a messy secret…
VI. The new Babylon
with hordes of refugees trails the harvest where it lent no seed.
And we say we are free, and we say we are wise—
we bury vinegar in each other"s spring chanting since we cannot recast
the mould of unity: the dew stop
the dew hangs.
Boa constrictors lie submerged
in the clouds waiting to write the history of rain, of laughter— stones aim at eggs,
guns aim at snails where
two elephants maintain a balance of power.
VII. Burnings and lootings lying and shootings down the precipice—
vain clamour ushers us into
another reign of mortars, of thunder biological, psychological, chemical welfare the second coming—
a grinding of our bones.
Last minute rush to quell
ignition on the Aburi of our bond— hijacked,
turned towards a rage of metals of dust, of rust
of festivals of anarchy
and indoctrination of evil— this recycling of toxic wits…
Come father, before the
reeds of Edom settle on iron tide beating the ash of mortar sh.e.l.ls— another lie for the throat of history.
Elegy in which I, myself shall spill my blood, await my resurrection from the land of stones—
whet the raging furnace of death with blood, my blood…
The rain dangles on thread in between the hills— stones lookup to stones hills behold hills
and war is born
and h.e.l.l is born
the dragons unleashed…
And the angels wait, restless sieving our heaps for light shall we, my people,
deny the thunder
And expect a miracle from the winds, and the G.o.ds which deny us, ancestors which betray us,
and our sins which destroy us heartstones which jump ding-dong to earth our world
this pending cosmic elegy…