“I didn’t believe you yesterday.” She handed him the glass – whisky, one ice cube away from being neat- and folded herself neatly beside him on the grey couch. The smoke from the cigar he cradled between his right index and middle fingers swirled up and away, as if running from the uncomfortableness of… Continue reading Truth

Verse Form


(to the beat of an Aṣíkò) “Write.” Why, because you think it would be about you? “Write.” What do you imagine? That I would express deep words of affection that I’m unable to say to your face? “Write.” Is this what you think? “Write.” What you expect? “Write.” What you want? “Write.” What about, exactly?… Continue reading Write