I Like…I Like…I Like…

I like a crowded world. I like rooms, with or without windows. I like things in rooms. I like the color grey. I like ash and mud. I like the phoenix. I like corn cobs hanging down from the fire place. I like deserted homelands. I like portraits with invisible faces. I like blindness. I like pots with blackened bottoms. I like frying pans pretending to be pots. I like spoons with missing handles. I like any thing that flies. I like time. I like love in a time of death. I like the dead that refuse to die. I like fire when it crackles. I like laughter even when it cackles. I like pain so intense it is sweet. I like semen to be clear like fennel flower tea. I like staircases. I like plastic tiles. I like bathrooms with algae for walls. I like waterless wells. I like finding legless dolls in unexpected places. I like the way brides dream. I like the doubts of husbands. I like the first line of every poem. I like stories shouted against noisy motor cars. I like toe-flicking. I like finger-crossing. I like zebras. I like Winnie the pooh. I like Lady Macbeth.  I like lamps. I like smoke. I like sucking on discarded cigarettes stubs. I like trash. I like oranges, especially stolen ones. I like little girls caught in the rain. I like pins for pens. I like pens that remember their previous lives as knives. I like tears. I like spittle. I like coffee in all it pretense of empowerment. I like membranes. I like eyes, fishlike and dead. I like flesh. I like skin. I like white skin; it cannot lie about its mutilation. I like dark skin; it sorrows are secret. I like the last work of every novelist. I like authors and their lovers. I like poets and their dogs. I like miracles. I like speaking in tongues, the only moment when madness is cute. I like flowers. I like the Chinese Camellia, rare and pinkish, a child of the mountain forest, an emblem of spring.

Tags: , ,

I hold a doctorate in English from Duke University and recently joined the Marquette University English faculty as an Assistant Professor. I love teaching African fiction and contemporary British novels. Brittle Paper is the virtual space/station where I play and experiment with ideas on how to reinvent African fiction and literary culture.

2 Responses to “I Like…I Like…I Like…” Subscribe

  1. Cathrine 2011/12/16 at 08:44 #

    Hi – I’ve only just discovered your blog…. its fascinating and so gorgeously written.

    I love this post.

  2. Oyin Oludipe 2014/10/13 at 17:24 #

    Beautiful beautiful I like like like 🙂

Leave a Reply

I hold a doctorate in English from Duke University and recently joined the Marquette University English faculty as an Assistant Professor. I love teaching African fiction and contemporary British novels. Brittle Paper is the virtual space/station where I play and experiment with ideas on how to reinvent African fiction and literary culture.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Archives

The 2017 Writivism Short Story Prize Goes to Nigeria’s Munachim Amah

13173450_1619200638400857_2469687830281826926_o

The Writivism Short Story Prize has gone to Nigeria’s Munachim Amah. He won for his short story, “Stolen Pieces.” He will […]

First Photos from the 2017 Writivism Festival

20819345_1994689334093219_6214976035878503585_o

The 2017 Writivism Festival just wrapped up in Kampala. It was held from 17 to 20 August. An initiative of […]

The Fall of the Gods | Chapter 1: ọ̀kan | Anthony Azekwoh | #TFOG

the fall of the gods (1)

  Ẹni tó ńbẹ̀rù àti ṣubú, àti dìde á nira fún un. Whoever is scared of falling, would find it […]

Wana Udobang’s Sophomore Poetry Album is a Sonic Book of Memories

wana udobang in memory of forgetting

Wana Udobang, popularly known as WanaWana, is no stranger to the Brittle Paper community. We’ve read her poetry, enjoyed her […]

Opportunity for African Writers | Submit to The Bare Life Review

barelife review

The Bare Life Review is a biannual literary journal that gives publishing opportunity exclusively to immigrant and refugee authors. They are […]

I Hear a Few More Things When Bob Dylan Says ‘a Hard Rain’s a-gonna Fall’ | Chisom Okafor | Poetry

33130808452_c617d33eb3_o

My father plays a song aloud on Sundays, that begins with ‘Where’ve you been my blue-eyed girl?’ We scream on […]