from Hafiz on how to write poetry

Have a bath, love a neighbor

with two holy hands, kiss the pen

in your sullied fingers, come washed

to the place where two rooms split

the light that belongs to a monastery

into detailed darkness.

loneliness is a form of death lived

for the people who have chosen

the music that’s capitalism over

self-purification. Pain is the painting

of what the devil is to God. Drink in silence,

a cup of your own blood, stream,

fall in little drops into yourself;

blank paper. Give all of your features

to rum and language. Prophesy, or interpret 

Hitler the Salvation of Christ.


Love has a texture. It’s adjectival on my thumbs

as I typed into that night before a face of lamps.

Sweet are the things we have surrendered to,

Sweet the feelings  that come  in describing you.

You are honey

mixed with fluorescence

in a glass cup. Light & fire.

I drink fire & I fall into the regions

marked for heated psychasthenia, the poet of Kilifi

out of  schizophrenia a heavenly place.

I am the madman & the cure.

& the neurosis, the prophecy.

If it is not madness, it is not love.

Be logical only when you will let go

of her bra

& holiness.

About The Author

Tares Oburumu is a graduate of philosophy from the University of Benin. He’s a lover of God and his daughter Sasha.

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