rage

shall we teach our daughters to teach their daughters to forgive their mothers, or shall we wait till men have raped and killed everyone else, opening vaginas and man-vulvas with screwdrivers, and broomsticks, and bottle openers, and machetes, and corkscrews, and bottles, and penises that have never known the taste of intimacy? shall we teach […]

how to clean a refugee body

(guta) daniel borzutzky: it is difficult to move in a body so congested with images of mutilation. when you have drunk this much, do you dream of vodkad-vomit saturated with country profiles? –the unitedkingdomers are back to fulfil their father’s dreams with english proficiency tests for visas that won’t last you long enough […]

studio 44

this is not how we die. on a diet of unknowns: ketepa and the smell of acrylics/ we dance to lyrics/ we have never known– childhoods activated like we once spoke lingala (but we perhaps did, or not)– [fated to the uncertainty of living– as though we were dead] and we have learnt to bury […]

12/5/24/9/5

did you think her overdressed in a g-string make-up and glitter? why not?

ccxix-m

i was born. (in a golden casket) dead > alive.

08.08.2017, we have questions; for you.

a child in lucky summer tries to wake his brother up he’s been dead for three minutes and a second! “mayoooo” is our cover for “haki iwe ngao na…” the only mlinzi here is your ability to hold your breath. [;] hold up: they check the number of your teeth (at recruitment) in […]

elii, or dining with death

what does a body look like after suffering four years of death? does it fold itself like overcooked spaghetti or stand straight like a sisal heart in kitulani? 12.01.2014 today, my aunt died and: i no longer have tears for death should i tell her this when, if, she comes again?

naisola & children in the future

at five: we need to talk when you asked me if i had a wife i hushedly said no; afraid they’d hear & rolled another chapati for penina (i wonder what happened to the dough you washed down the sink at ngakuyaa‘s!) last night, in ngong, i came to collect you, daughter my family […]

[…]

(stay stubborn, questioning and irrespectable. desire a revolution of some sort. even a tiny, little one.)

Jozi

egoli swallows, we claim but die. he vomits us into seas that swallow & vomit us into distant lands. lands that unfreed our ancestors and shackle their descendants. lands that demand that we speak imperial. englishness swelling up, taking up spaces that our souls occupied. before. a year and three attempted suicides later, i […]