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- The Great Excavation
- coming out in no particular order
- This town; a breathing crocodile, is a sad town…
- My grandfather on a sandglass
- what the little girl meant to say when the long-haired journalist asked: where are you from?
- The man who wrote bad poetry
- The dilemma of a poem
- a poem you read from right to left
- The federal constitution
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- coming out in no particular order eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/com… 18 hours ago
- This town; a breathing crocodile, is a sad town… eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/thi… 1 day ago
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Tag Archives: Mesioye Johnson
i my friend talks about blood & blood & blood till vain became a passage for his blood. ii a boy leaves his enemies, fights with furniture & a mirror showing the nakedness he is made of. iii delusion hides … Continue reading
a rolled paper full of half-burnt names a wet brown paper whose dryness at one of its edge is a weary shape of my country’s map. a camera. i switched on this recorder of fire & loss. the last series … Continue reading
“Because the year is a distance we’ve traveled in circles”—Ocean Vuong you move closer to the music giving your body warmth when silence eats you up, this isn’t a rule it’s the only freedom left, freedom caged in a tin … Continue reading
in seasons, the body digs and digs unknowns before becoming a grave for all poems of fire it has ever analyzed. in the process of bringing the heart between textures of grief, a city has to fall around a sackcloth … Continue reading
when I asked how are you: don’t lie, for you were the speed on vehicles going to uncertain places, don’t lie, for half of a dead moon bounced in your heart before you said “I’m fine” —you, an art in … Continue reading
( after Agarau ) you always want to gift your life to a lifeless thing—maybe what sieves some wars from your veins into your body, or what takes part of your darkness and burns it burns it till you become fire burning … Continue reading