Bah Humbug!

AN IDEA OF IMPROVISATION

AS A HAUNTOLOGY WITH

A RECIPE FOR PERSIAN ROULETTE

(after Kaveh Akbar)

Why does life set tar along our path?

As a child nearly any thesaurus 

roared like a favorite dinosaur until

the beloved came before me to leave 

a cursive sitar next to certain furniture

on legs too short & dark for longing

how far must my sheep now wander

inside the silent ones a rose to set art 

circling round the sound of our father

like a tarot type of card in some casino

of the heart down to our bottom holler

I would grip the right arm of a slot machine

like the leftover parts of a long gone lover 

—if only I found the Farsi word for star

Elastic like Ekphrastic

a red wheelbarrow

how the rain water carries

the chicken’s white call

Happy Helen Folásadé Adu Day!

 Welp! Here we go again. 

AN IDEA OF IMPROVISATION 

AS MUCH ADU ABOUT NOTHING

“Didn’t I tell you what I believe,

didn’t I say that . . .”

Sade

Ifemi, you hummed 

“hang on to your love”

but, how many more

REM cycles 

before your winged eyeliner

angles to leap

the ravine of No Return

and open me

as a sommelier would 

a wine bottle?

How long until 

the white crescents

of your nails

re-light the black sky 

of my back?

Pray tell, who could foresee

the talisman

of your Pi tattoo?

Half icicle, half feather,

it feels like 

only this morning

your fingers found 

the curls at the base

of my neck.

Oh, freckled cheeks of Jesus,

I don’t know 

if even communion

 might spell 

or dispel 

the butterflies netted

by your amber irises.

Ifemi, what could be

the difference 

between a wound 

and what wound up 

happening?

Even still,

does Cupid not thrill 

some with arrows

and others with traps?

Has it not been claimed

—as a saxophone

signals sorrow—

that a fool for roses

may soon be a fool 

for rain? 

What drove me to seek

the heat of palms

lined with 

symbols derived 

from five types of feral,

yet cashmere as 

anything the neck

of a guitar

might fret to borrow?

If you come back, 

I won’t bring up

your wrist’s brassy passion 

for adinkra charms

& police bracelets

or why your contralto

seeks to crown

 my love 

as king.

Ifemi, perhaps

I’ve been reciting

 the right lyrics 

to the wrong songs

or the wrong lyrics

to the right songs

ever since that ponytail 

swung past 

a burst flame 

of bud 

to our last good buy.

Pray tell,

is it a rhyme 

if nothing stops 

me from being 

spotted like a Luna moth

in the halo 

of a porch light,

circling 

what’s tucked under 

the welcome mat

of yet another 

woman’s tongue?

December dawn

 

Introducing Shroomi

The following is a collection of sayings by and poems about Shroomi, the famous and infamous mystical figure that I just made up about a day ago. 

changing the batteries

in the neon buddha

Shroomi 

re-upholstering

the Divan of Hafez

Shroomi

What we seek

is in our lapse

Shroomi

glimpsing

the wine beyond the glass

Shroomi

unreadable

in words or letters

Shroomi

Violets are red

roses are blue

Shroomi as pi

is irrational too

slice your finger

suture as sutra

Shroomi

one cicada

on three branches

Shroomi

why are whispers

IN ALL CAPS

Shroomi

Shroomi deems

all the eggs in NJ

bedeviled

Shroomi types

dog is good

all the time

finally reaching 

their adult Fahrenheit

Shroomi

Shroomi wonders

if god is the only odd

perfect number

sprout beyond

notions of sense or nonsense

Shroomi

rhyming axolotl

with “a showboat”

Shroomi 

broken guitar

nothing left of the blue

in Shroomi’s eyes 

kissing the hands

of the cuckoo clock

Shroomi 

cursive words

in yellow on snow

Shroomi was here

reciting 

Aha in his fez

Shroomi

broken guitar

the unstrung blue

in Shroomi’s eyes

the women

giggle when he appears

Shroomi

calling shotgun

everytime we roll

Shroomi

oh gee

it’s a trochee

Shroomi

Shroomi says

god is the sky

in the pi

shredding his poems

before ghazaling them

Shroomi

reciting Hafez 

versus Hafez verses

Shroomi 

more people

on the garden path

than Shroomi has

jelly of all

the obsidian beans

Shroomi

sufi in the streets

fluty in the sheets

Shroomi

knot keeping

up with his haijin

Shroomi

sooner reciting

“my seal, Liam”

Shroomi

falling into

the black rabbit whole

Shroomi

do not buy

this book if you’re high

(Shroomi says)

not bound

by what he’s bound for

Shroomi

in bed

before ache o’clock

Shroomi

doe-eyed 

as Euclid’s proof of limitless primes

Shroomi’s beloved

somehow 

multiplying in Times Square

Shroomi

almost resembling

most of it assembled 

Shroomi

December moon

sighing in Sagittarius 

Shroomi

putting the nig

in shenanigans

Shroomi

not a jagoff

except for when he isn’t

Shroomi

what tongue

doesn’t know

the E in need

is longer than 

the E in desire

Shroomi

the jay is blue

because his feathers are gray

Shroomi