Kwame Dawes' brain
after Stephen Embleton / after Kwame Dawes
there's a feral desire taking hold of my waist and
on puff futon i lay sizzling underneath this Nungua
sky. my memory recedes and returns with oceanic
force as words from Nebraska displaces my reality–
i am underneath the Prairie safeguarding my old
skin with baggy jeans and a dark greyish hoodie.
flake after flake has salted the earth and foot after
foot i leave tracks that may be seen as Bigfoot by
the homeless felines that dine on my overflowing
rich garbage can. a member of my clan publishes
his first collection and the clan expects the doyen
to christen the ceremony. oh it pleases my belly so
to see the faces of jolly youth take a sit in this room
where friends have come and gone. where hauntings
of brilliant minds have come and gone. and soon
although i pray my track goes longer i will be gone.
at the mouth of the coffee shop the black board
reads book launch by habi schar and i cannot help
but reminisce the names that have been wiped off
with countless dusters and written with countless
chalks. before i walk down the glory lane my memory
recedes and my foot is burning in the place
where countless foots like mine have been burnt
daydreaming in this Nungua beach sand. i am reminded
that adjacent to my right my lover rests her brown
wrinkleless skin sparkling full of lustre and i am
a young man bloated with a desire to get a well-paid life
-sucking job or settle for a tag a baton passed
down by my kin who is now a denizen to the Prairie.
a brown boy leads a black dog into the ocean like
a man leading a woman to a nuptial. the dog winces
tries to wriggle itself free but what will do we really
have? like humans i am without doubt that the dog
reeks with the fear of drowning. when the boy leads
it out of the ocean it dances giddies off invisible
shackles and before it tastes the salt in freedom
the boy with a barbaric smirk grabs it into another
nuptial. i know how desire tastes and for a second
i let go of mine and question the coldness in the boy.
he tells me how his will is not his own either but his
father pulls his strings. take it in take it out
take it in take it out his father had instructed and he
had to obey. what nectar did i drink to lead a boy
off his father's will? i bury my lips into my lover's
then buckle down the feral desire around my waist
and call forth Nebraska to replace this reality.
BIO:
I Echo is a Ghanaian-Nigerian writer on a neverending search of self. He is confident in one thing: He would like to explore the world, realise new cultures, create new conversations, and hopefully save the world by saving himself. He tweets on @AyeEcho
there's a feral desire taking hold of my waist and
on puff futon i lay sizzling underneath this Nungua
sky. my memory recedes and returns with oceanic
force as words from Nebraska displaces my reality–
i am underneath the Prairie safeguarding my old
skin with baggy jeans and a dark greyish hoodie.
flake after flake has salted the earth and foot after
foot i leave tracks that may be seen as Bigfoot by
the homeless felines that dine on my overflowing
rich garbage can. a member of my clan publishes
his first collection and the clan expects the doyen
to christen the ceremony. oh it pleases my belly so
to see the faces of jolly youth take a sit in this room
where friends have come and gone. where hauntings
of brilliant minds have come and gone. and soon
although i pray my track goes longer i will be gone.
at the mouth of the coffee shop the black board
reads book launch by habi schar and i cannot help
but reminisce the names that have been wiped off
with countless dusters and written with countless
chalks. before i walk down the glory lane my memory
recedes and my foot is burning in the place
where countless foots like mine have been burnt
daydreaming in this Nungua beach sand. i am reminded
that adjacent to my right my lover rests her brown
wrinkleless skin sparkling full of lustre and i am
a young man bloated with a desire to get a well-paid life
-sucking job or settle for a tag a baton passed
down by my kin who is now a denizen to the Prairie.
a brown boy leads a black dog into the ocean like
a man leading a woman to a nuptial. the dog winces
tries to wriggle itself free but what will do we really
have? like humans i am without doubt that the dog
reeks with the fear of drowning. when the boy leads
it out of the ocean it dances giddies off invisible
shackles and before it tastes the salt in freedom
the boy with a barbaric smirk grabs it into another
nuptial. i know how desire tastes and for a second
i let go of mine and question the coldness in the boy.
he tells me how his will is not his own either but his
father pulls his strings. take it in take it out
take it in take it out his father had instructed and he
had to obey. what nectar did i drink to lead a boy
off his father's will? i bury my lips into my lover's
then buckle down the feral desire around my waist
and call forth Nebraska to replace this reality.
BIO:
I Echo is a Ghanaian-Nigerian writer on a neverending search of self. He is confident in one thing: He would like to explore the world, realise new cultures, create new conversations, and hopefully save the world by saving himself. He tweets on @AyeEcho
