Sentinel Poetry #34

ONLINE MAGAZINE MONTHLY ...since December 2002

September 2005  ISSN 1479-425X

Editor: Amatoritsero Ede





I say to you:

freedom is the face in the carnival, known but unknown

freedom is the map in the pocket,

meaningless when not lost

freedom is but a season away,

the rains after the dragon’s blood.

freedom, when the syntax no longer stink nor sting...

the forgetfulness of castrated days.

And when the cold night undresses, I will be content with your placard:

"Love me now, love me now, there’s no better freedom than your cell!”


I Will Find You


Tonight my verse will find you dancing alone

a hurricane of desires will pass me, unknown.

And I the anchor, martyr to your trance,

draped, in the absolution of your absence.

You for whom I have wandered in uncertain pines

You for whom I have sacrificed my limbs in open mines.

You for whom I have many names...

What delights me more this very moment:

your laughter, salty as the rain’s chemistry

on a parched tongue, or your seismic filament,

which gives fulness to your minted mystery.

Tonight my verse seeks you but I’m a speck of dream.

In the middle of it all, when you are not there

I always find you in the finesse of sand

in the sounds of stones, rivers, and in the clouds’ jeer

in the waves, in the foams and dunes of the land.

We will not know the day but the hour will come

in the hurricane and the dance

in the liberty of the trance

in this serration

and that imagination

all mean less than the remembrance of fire.

It is in that hour that my verse will find you

It is in that second that my song will fill you.


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