Felix Bongjoh

Shisong-Bui, Cameroon
Felix Bongjoh
Shisong-Bui, Cameroon
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Let Everything Do Its's Thing

(i)

Swung under the sun, brushy
spades of hot latex winds
pulling me to my flapped bird wings.

Cutting through and across,
as I'm bumped against me
with hot logs of air
rolling through hollows, hollowed-out.

Pulling me down a slope
in this hilly country curving me
over to lick my toes, as I walk,
crawling and creeping with ants.

Skipping with flies clicking
back slipped-off buttons
no longer holding hollow pieces
together to sew air back
into hanging screens and curtains.

Harps in the wind lift and carry
my steps behind the snail
curved into itself, as it trudges
through mud and split sands
in its boots of belly and

I stoop over a running trail
of water growing red under
the hot pumped-down sun
in its swelling crown, flipping
out silver feathers and wings

to sketch arcs-in-sky, cream
hairs and gossamer threads
weaving air into a spun plate.

(ii)

I bow over Migheff brook
to see how much water has
washed and scrubbed pebbles
to a beaming smooth skin.

As rooted cobblestones
by a plumped-down boulder
shrug at me, and peek at sky.

Pouring showers of sun,
rays falling in gossamer brooms,
breeze-waved to grind life
into breezes and zephyrs.

I stand by Migheff bridge
and let my eyes flow
with a muttering, mumbling,
winding line of silver,
a stream journeying to a home
under earth's elastic dome.

(iii)

Where's home? A rubble
under a bridge collapsed
with a boom and a crawled bang?

Where's home over a nylon
stretch of water buttoning up
and zippering itself, as creases
and ripples melt into wind?

Where's home, if not mats
of green grass creeping
by each wheeled sliding, slipping
with the stream's soft-handed flow,
when sky's hawks roll down low,

the world soft as the dough
I mold it into, with every wince
and snivel and sniffle
to keep company with a dog
that lurks by me, but shows no face.
No teeth in the fire of a bark.

As I make my own fire, tinder
in my stretching crocodile core
ignited to burn and shed ashes.

Under the sun-lit fire of life,
let a log wear a crocodile's body
to make it burn, swallowing
a world of caterwauling butterflies,

the strongest beast on earth
dodging swords of wind, as a storm
grows horns it blows into,
as I let everything do its thing,

rainbow and flower wings
of skipping insects igniting that fire
of love that pulls me along.
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4/16/2021 2:57:54 AM # 1.0.0.559