prose poem: jacob kobina ayiah mensah
Comprehension
You mean I’m not in this flesh, only the red pandemic remains at the sea, & if I being myself separated from your symmetry, much depends on the continuance of disintegrating my lost & its undoubted prestige. I correct this entrance to the extent necessary to safeguard the interests of living round someone else entirely by myself, I’m waiting to push my strength in your patience, I’m waiting to fill the rest of the day, this never ending audacity to be, I remain silently here, this suburban bungalow in the countryside.
Sitting on a high stood in front of the next huge canvas, days outgrow my riddle, I watch the best brains that go on fading among all feverish fears, I continue the interpenetration of urban and rural in Asteasu. I paint Bilbao Old Town & other seven, I see myself in the Ibaiondo district in a house hiding behind Las Siete Calles in the clouds. Here I’m descending down from the sky to the cellar to catch the reality in your missing hands.
Today is my 2nd day of self-quarantine. I stagger up with wine I’ve once abandoned at your end in the Basque Country. But here the birds have gone back to the forest & half of the canvasses is blank & people are few in the streets, I stretch myself again with palette knives. Someone is yearning to live like any rich weed I’m positioning across the fence. I stretch your upstairs across the bridge, across the gist to where a farmhouse is still on main street waiting.
about the writer: jacob kobina ayiah mensah
Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah, who is an algebraist and artist, works in mixed media. His poetry, songs, prose, art and hybrid pieces have appeared in numerous journals. He lives in the southern part of Ghana, in Spain, and the Turtle Mountains, North Dakota.
