Not carvings on wood But engravings on dust Breathing dust, walking dust Markings that define so good Carvings on dust Art of perfect fingers Some are lovely singers To whom melodies are gold for cost These are not tattoos Which, with the skin, decays Or fades before a beaming ray They steady in the whirls… Continue reading DEEP MARKINGS


Oh harmattan! Again you come to lay your hand upon our feeble frames; Your long tongue licks our oily lips and faces into whiteness, Forcing many to swallow tasteless dust in feverish moods! Oh harmattan! Your cruel touch paints oily, cracked lips with red dust, And make men made shiver like palm leaves in the… Continue reading HARMATTAN