Dry Season 1

Here, it is always
cicadas hidden deep in
whispering bamboo

and boisman singing
bout how this place have tiger
striped with old brawl scars.

Heat comes from within:
the Harmattan in our lungs
red dust in our eyes

Young boys drink too much
red bull and johnny walker
staggering anger

Who knows what to do
with a man these days? Give him
room enough to burn

Without catching
us all a'fire.  Burning
both bush and garden

Sac pase, ay'ti?
We are, all of us, burning
in this endless heat.

But boismen know well
the secret of singing in
whispering bamboo

of bringing flambeau
to riverside.  Of making
steam to turn turbines.

Of carrying rage
in belly, in hands, in throat.
Of wailing like men.

Of meeting drumbeat
with karray.  Of that fire
that makes gardens thrive.

So sing the lavway.
Pass body and bois through flame.
Here it is.  Always.