SHED
But the psyche.
But the anarchy.
But the abyss
turned entirely back
on itself.
But the altar. The crone.
But the panther. Testimony
from a tranced pirate.
But the music that showed up.
But the fast train.
The visitation.
But the asylum & sanctuary.
But the breakdown.
The breakthrough.
But the brown-eyed barometer.
FLASH FROM A MAZE
An overfed guitar,
tired balls.
The fag-ends
of rambles.
So what.
I write like this
to wake sleepy monks
in the wilderness
of the street.
The end of summer
will be when
memory matters.
Wanderers head home.
So much given already.
So much given.
So much to give.
Do you remember
eating pussy
at sundown?
I do.
SEEING IT CLEARLY
Stumbling in your
alphabets the lovers
went up up up
loosed upon the island
triply blessed
our arguments
& disagreements
are part of
the full picture
I was lost
irrevocably
inside your knickers
& now
you’re gone
pounding the pavement
poems stuffed
to the gills
BRAND NEW SHIELD
Losing interest
is beside the point, we
didn’t dare figure out
the prequel, a woman’s busy
hands in the rainy season
of a nation’s beginnings,
this unholy war in holy lands,
latitudes left each other a
note, sailboat of our spirit,
those heedless selfies, the
blisters of blue irises, somehow
we braved the blast of
loneliness & sang out of tune,
no resolution, no conclusion, we
hung a new star over gathering rains.
RESCALE
Three thistles.
Four inkwells.
Terracotta tracker.
Clay coil pots.
Weaver star.
Fooling with gouache.
Black line.
Osprey in water.
You’re back again
on the sunroof of
the car as it speeds
down the freeway
with the wind in your hair
or at least try to
in the public mirror
reality & words
an actuality common
to both of us
wedged between what
is said & what is.
IF THE STAMEN
The mountain
remembered us
rainbow in the attic
the riddle
is our measure
all theology begins
with lovers that leap
& curse
don’t expect me
to present a balanced picture
this poem is a ballet
without shoes
I cling to your legs
with their stores of sweetness
like the beneficent cunt
opening its wings
I reject the entreaties
of dead language
you dance the book
from right to left
the ocean is our sky
Written by © Uche Nduka

Photo by Fiona Gardner
Uche Nduka was born in Nigeria to a Christian family. Raised bilingual in Igbo and English, he earned his BA from the University of Nigeria and his MFA from Long Island University, Brooklyn. He left Nigeria in 1994 and settled in Germany after winning a fellowship from the Goethe Institute. He lived in Germany and Holland for the next decade and immigrated to the United States in 2007. Nduka is the author of numerous collections of poetry and prose, including Living in Public (2018), Nine East (2013), Ijele (2012), and eel on reef (2007), all of which were published after he arrived in the United States. Earlier collections include Heart’s Field (2005); If Only the Night (2002); Chiaroscuro (1997), which won the Association of Nigerian Authors Poetry Prize; The Bremen Poems (1995); Second Act (1994); and Flower Child (1988). Belltime Letters (2000) is a collection of prose. His work has been translated into German, Finnish, Italian, Dutch, and Romanian.

Featured Picture: Moon in Capricorn. Oil, Collage 2022 Mitchell Pluto
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