my monk’s habit is a bathrobe (spiritual rhythm no. 3) | samuel adéìfẹoluwa oguntoyinbo Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. -Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV) The lonely remember science if it’s sung. - E L U C I D, “thermometer” Repetition make it meaningless / Or is that the creation ritual? -R.A.P. Ferreira, “GOLDEN SARDINE” Dedicated to Banke Adeniyi. Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. Psalms 116:15. My mind, this devotional organ Sketches out spiritual rhythms Like a seismograph The last laugh is a nectar but the sweetest get-back / is being completely free That line’s not me All credit DV All praises be Offered God a hand He said I raise you one with a hole in it Cold, isn’t it? The soul shivers Shadow left flickering in the incandescence I only let the flow dictate what’s the content I write nonsense Or so it seems if you don’t think it through But hey, I wouldn’t if I were you (I’m speaking to the reader) I’ll be the leader Take my hand Nod your head to the rhyme if you can. My poems are unplanned. I retrofit meanings to them later / after consulting my Creator. Save a plate for me at the table. I promise I’ll eat when I’m done writing this. I promise I’ll get sleep. Thank you for reminding me. I didn’t cry when you first left. It took a while. Tears in escrow / now they flow freely Behind a closed door where no one can see me Shoulders heaving Real weeping Face screwed up Looping Nostrum Grocers in the wee hours of the morning Mourning.