Wọn ni – àwọn olóye – wọn ni Gbogbo nkan ti o nmi lórí ilẹ̀ yìí, Lọ má kú. Míì mọ b’oya àgbàlagbà lọ sọ’yen Kí kò lè je
In all my years— it always begins— never have I ever, followed by many things that mean nothing at all. Tínúkẹ́ always leaves herself at
There is no solution to this Problem of the other mind Harboured in my bedmate’s body: After 35 years of marriage Or communication inside out Are
Is neither dull-yellow Nor dull-grey; rather Every grain has The bright colour of a Rare gem, which You can see only With an amplified vision
More advanced in evolution Than their human masters are chickens As they outnumber the stars in the whole Universe, and occupy every corner of
The morning After his inauguration His Excellency could not Wake up from sleep He was later pronounced “dead” ‘But he
Little boy selling ice cream do you see them? Those who zoom past in tinted convoys… Do you look at them then smile, waving your shriveled
I Son, even Rome fell by the conspiracy of compatriots II Bridle your tongue, son for your cheeks have ears III Even the sun sets at noon son, be
Olukayode asks how the world sinks into the sea When he sees the sun drawn like a magnet into the waters’ bowel Beyond the farthest holds of our
I come home holding her hand and you do not cast us out. There is no sizzle of fire, no tyres, no rocks, no planks. You do not cross