The Djinn of Madialy
January 21, 2019Hybrid Poetry by Susan Terris
A farmer named Amadou took him into a millet field to see a tree that was possessed.
A farmer named Amadou took him into a millet field to see a tree that was possessed.
In this blue mood I prefer the Buddha’s drop of dew.
The truth of it is that every single instant we are, all of us, obliterated and refreshed.
Our friend's wheelchair has grown to Jabba-the-Hutt standards.
We talk making art with a message—getting people to look and listen.
Maybe I’m finally starting to make my peace with living in the Midwest.
On the bedstead another one direct and diaphanous begins its boogie.