poetry
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Here, I eat the chips of childhood; salt in the air and salt and vinegar in my mouth. Salivating stillness after the turtle-like triumph of treading to the top we put a period on the promenade. Proudly private people we prostrate ourselves in lounge chairs designed for that express purpose. This is one of…
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I’ve got a feeling everyone knows I had a hard year but they don’t know I missed the train yet still managed to see my son shine. I’ve got a feeling that keeps me on my toes and in throe but I still missed the train. I am not alone. Everybody had a wet dream.…
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Every year when April approaches, I find myself getting all skittery about it because since I found out about it, I have never been able to write a poem for every single day of the month. But I keep trying. The poet in me demands it. So here I am again, April 1st starting the…
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On my book blog, I have written about how absolutely fascinated I am by the Great Dismal Swamp. I have started but not yet finished Daniel A. Sayers’ A Desolate Place for a Defiant People: The Archaeology of Maroons, Indigenous Americans, and Enslaved Laborers in the Great Dismal Swamp; started but not yet finished Charles Royster’s The Fabulous History of the Dismal Swamp Company: A Story of George…
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I have never read any if her work [yet] but this quote makes me want to do so. “Nobody reads poetry, we are told at every inopportune moment. I read poetry. I am somebody. I am the people, too. It can be allowed that an industrious quantity of contemporary American poetry is consciously written…
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I don’t normally incorporate poetic forms in my work but having come across the form of the cento, I thought that sounds interesting. I flipped through several books to pick the words that would form the basis of the piece. The lyricism of Eduardo Galeono’s trilogy Memory of Fire fired my imagination the most for…
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The other day, roaming around my internal universe, I thought to myself, why not hand make your next book? Knowing next to nothing about the art, I went straight to Google. The best tutorial I saw was on thelateafternoon.com although my book is not going to be a scrap book so the idea of using cardboard,…
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Nonsense Makes Sense We tango sambo Manifesting delicious Delinquency to the tune Of tito Ditto machito & his afro-cubans Plantation palpitations Bandana fandango Somber sambo Santería celia Cruz middle passage Memorizing meringue Sherbro sho bro Talk that talk Tantalize romanticize Defecate delinquencies Until p diddy’s umbrella Is eunichized Colonial colón Original origami Paper tigers like…
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My bed is full of ashes ghosts and fingers that creep like vines. I, limbless perambulate the contours of a dream that approaches a nightmare. I am home and horizontal.
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forty-six years of diaspora living and finally, i see myself again. forty-six years of living and i refuse to apologize anymore unless i am wrong and wrongness always has a personal and a political component so goodbye, good riddance and good luck. i loved you once. honestly. as freely as i could i loved you…
Tichaona Chinyelu 
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