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
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.