art in all its forms

art in all its forms

2/11/10

'Carnival' a poem by Andre Bagoo

You are not my mother so you hold
my hand tighter than you should.

The wind blows my Indian feather,
And throws red dust into my face.

This is supposed to be fun, but when
We reach the Savannah stage I am terrified...

     --READ full poem in the Boston Review.

3 comments:

  1. Andre,
    Love the AID poem.

    May I share it?

    Jamela

    ReplyDelete
  2. How nice of you to say. Of course you may share anything on the blog in conformance with the Creative Commons Licence noted at the bottom of the page.

    ReplyDelete