But the drumhead rolled by name: / How you sound is / Who you are / Like drumsound / Backing back to root / Roosting at the meeting place / The time that has always been here (Avishai Cohen, poem Keorapetse Kgositsile)

Every true poem is a spark, / And aspires to the condition of the original fire / Arising out of emptiness. / It is that same emptiness it wants to reignite / It is that same engendering it wants to be re-engendered by. / Shooting stars. / April’s identical, / Celestial, wordless, burning down. / […]

— · — — · — My metapher is a blues / Hot pain dealin blues is a blues axin / Guitar voices whiskey broken niggah deep / In the heart is a blues in a glass filled with rain / Is a blues in the dark / Slurred voices of straight bourbon / Is […]