My feet are cold. They remind me of that one week in Iowa. I look at my feet. I don’t like to think about that week in Iowa. It was not a good week in Iowa. I keep looking at my feet. They are covered in cotton—frayed and tubed. I can feel every inch of me forgetting...
“Ibadan’running splash of rustand gold-flung and scatteredamong seven hills like brokenChina in the sun.” —John Pepper Clark Bẹẹrẹ Four ways to the homes of warriors, the peak of Màpó,The abandoned palace; they said every Baálẹ̀ has taken palace To their...
Photo: Dotun55, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons Èkó àkéte, the promise land of any who so wishes,Bounded by the ocean of wisdom, “if you no wise for Lagos You no fit wise for anywhere”, city of hundreds dramas, teachingEvery Jonny the lessons of...
Illustration by Amy Bobeda I am walking in madison square parkit is busypeople are going,to eatalyfor pistachio pastemy bag,is fullof spices from kalustyan’swhere a coupledancedin front of the halva because they are getting marriedI am walking past a man in a hammock...
In the wee hours of this morning, I noticed A heavy snow falling as forecasted. With The whole world feeling immaculate, I got up &Stood in front of my window, just on thisSide of the glass, finding myself lost in the white way All the ugly, dark, dirty, messy as...
