Ebuka Evans
Path of Thunder: A Continuation of a Long Trail of Stubborn Men
“be gone apprentice,
i left my gong and stick
at the sacred grotto
of mother idoto
for you and your ilk
for generations of town criers”
—Chris Okigbo
bodies swirl like birds caught in cardiac arrest on flight
ninety kilograms of camouflage and ammunition cause dust to go to god
like hot air balloons & in a mini space above oceans and sea gods
i invoke a little deity with cornstarch in his breath his words powdery, sugary
this bare I stand in a stony grotto crackling with old skulls and empty femur
remember when I fell at Opi as sacrifice at a crossroad to please the gods
of confusion. the spell calabash is clasped by an angel-ou in this grotto where a bird begins to ascend
a body rises like splashes of water unity lies in the fall a ghost as black as tar
lays flat on the path carrying sojourners on its belly a water body feels good (immune to grenades)
wet breath with a fear for suction pipes & deserts.
i left my gong and stick
at the sacred grotto
of mother idoto
for you and your ilk
for generations of town criers”
—Chris Okigbo
bodies swirl like birds caught in cardiac arrest on flight
ninety kilograms of camouflage and ammunition cause dust to go to god
like hot air balloons & in a mini space above oceans and sea gods
i invoke a little deity with cornstarch in his breath his words powdery, sugary
this bare I stand in a stony grotto crackling with old skulls and empty femur
remember when I fell at Opi as sacrifice at a crossroad to please the gods
of confusion. the spell calabash is clasped by an angel-ou in this grotto where a bird begins to ascend
a body rises like splashes of water unity lies in the fall a ghost as black as tar
lays flat on the path carrying sojourners on its belly a water body feels good (immune to grenades)
wet breath with a fear for suction pipes & deserts.