Join Agbowo’s Editorial Squad Agbowó, a collector of New African Art, is currently looking for several highly motivated African readers to join our fiction, poetry,..
after Franny Choi by the time the apocalypse began, my country was burning behind my back.my friends & I were speeding on a highway. the..
Gold flashed from the turning bodies on the upper-deck. Their voices carried to you. They didn’t carry to you when you were on the boat...
i stopped hearing the sound of ghouls whispering through the night. no longer saw dark silhouettes shape-shifting on the walls.do you remember, how I’d rolloverinto the nirvana of..
I enter this poem through the back door. Omnipresent, do you see me? Memory is a bird; how it takes off, we do not know—..
6:05 am. Utako, Abuja. I sit in the lobby of ABC Transport terminal, awaiting departure. On the wall opposite me, a flat-screen TV plays a..
One. Two. Three. I counted the numbers in my head. It usually took Baba eight seconds to resurface from the water and four seconds to..
– Grief is the mother of voyages- Romeo Oriogun & unlaying each layers of loss is rupturing a heart before a door into silhouettes of..
1 March 1, 2020. Kaduna I feel that by writing I am doing what is far necessary than anything else – Virginia Woolf ‘Who am..
& because songs are often hands that lead us to places we have been before, I am here walking into a valley of names. Every..
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