Ca: the African

I no longer hear from the window Downstairs, the edible syllables Of the the Congo drum salivating Its whispers on my hungry ears. The seduction of sweet nuances Stirring latent passion; the dares For midnight dances In the nakedness of silence; taunting My soul with desires For black uncoiling rhythms That move like a fire; tantalizing The shadow; leaving The moon undress Cold upon the floor. Bring back my writhing song The slithering tide across the shore Let me encore throng Of feelings trapped in that wilderness. ITS SOUL TORTURED BY FERTILE SCHISM THE CITY SLEEPS STLL, AND DREAMLESS NOW