Bleak House | Olayioye Paul Bamidele | Poetry
The house that stood no longer holds me. Its windows pierce me with what the world steals from me – honks, afternoon crickets. All furnitures have no mouth to honk. But the chairs bear my burden. I sit, & like a belly heaving, it sinks below. I have said it: inanimism have more life […]
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The house that stood no longer holds me. Its windows pierce me with what the world steals from me – honks, afternoon crickets. All furnitures have no mouth to honk. But the chairs bear my burden. I sit, & like a belly heaving, it sinks below. I have said it: inanimism have more life […]
