it begins with herdsmen asking for our farms, fields & our fathers’ graves, green with the milk of meat. this night, I toss my blankets,..
At the interface between earth and mute space, between form and void, is glass. * ..
at yaba there’s a part of you loitering on every streets, in stranger’s houses, on the faces of everyone you meet there’s the granny’s box..
Here I bring my camels to the waterer. Look, you write these poems too close to your heart I have been, all morning, trying to..
from the very first breath, life begins to chisel us, and carves us into the bodies we become at the last draw. when we were..
We are excited to share with you the contributors that made up this year’s Agbowó magazine, The Memory Issue. Comprising 36 creative Africans from different countries,..
(For Onnie) I have tried to count our minted coins: They are Z+ of integers slipping through mind Like a money changer sans numismatic..
CLICK TO DOWNLOAD THE YOUNG AFRICAN POETS ANTHOLOGY NOW INTRODUCTION We who are living now have an obligation to open the future’s doors and..
10. Here at the riverbank I watch as the egret picks another fish – it too has come in search of earthworms to pick 9...
You know survival is a blue ribbon tied to our bone walls because we are made of rust, stained cotton wool, febrile skin and everything..
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