The Man (Poetry)

​I have seen the man kick his wife
in the belly, and in that single
action put a shameful end to a brewing life
like shit in a public restroom.
I have seen the man lynch his fellow –
another man who loves like a lady.


Hi, guys. I just realised I haven’t published anything here in a while. ‘Busy-ness is a bitch.’, right? So, below are some of the jottings I’ve made in recent times. Most of them are from observations in Lagos, which I scribbled down and hoped – still hope – to use in my writing sometime. I know they probably won’t make sense to you – just humour me.

Memory in the City (Essay)

Each time I’ve written a memoir piece, I’ve been very careful not to take in myself certain ideas of authority. I always write, ‘I don’t remember’, ‘my memory is shifty’, or ‘I think’, because I accept how easy it is to forget – and how dangerous it is to forget without knowing that you have forgotten.

Bola (Fiction)

There’s Bola, with her massive ass. The first time I fucked her from behind, the slap-slap that my potbelly made against it muffled her moans. Later, she bit my upper arm and drew blood as she came. It hurt, but I smiled – I guess it was the look on her face, of painful pleasure, this harelipped woman, so unbashful.