Sky Song by Precious Okoyomon

                                After n 4 – Fred

Slowly adjust to the suffering
Somewhere I read you long to dispossess yourself of yourself
emancipate oneself from oneself
In this shit again

The other day watching the sky drowning in blue as
i layed in the grass
I shouted a Dumas poem to the sky

Take up the blood from the grass, sun.
Take it up.
These people do not thirst for it.
Take up the insect children that play in
the grass, sun.
Take them away.
These people are sick of them.
Take down the long slender reeds, sun.
Cut them down.
These people cannot make flutes any longer.
Now sun, come closer to the earth!
Even closer than that.
Closer. Now, sun.
Take away the shape from the metal, sun.
They are like stone, these people.
Now make them lava.

I’d like there to be space between us and then also a crushing, a pounding.
This fullness of articulation. I mean no but yes
Motherfuckers always asking too many questions?
dispossession of that individuality / held in that all but already given to the unconscious,
the giving having given itself away / never was

What if it’s not about putting shit together but about how shit falls apart?
open that
void wide up

Eating ass for breakfast
Keep getting off

Open up
get in lick it up
Shit slinger
Master cleanse


Silly boi


this brutalizing interplay of centrality and relationality decolonization
constrained motion
Reform fade up a dark empty room lit by only evening light
Form a window set high in a back wall
No colour
No percussion
Footsteps the only sound
Don’t cry bby
Dry your pretty eyes smile at me
space time itself produced discovered reproduced

Ever since I woke up this morning, i’ve had so many horrible thoughts i thought about people
with who I agree on 99% of what they say and with whom I share 99% of their desires? I lost
count. That’s bad, and I really want to work on that, i want to work on being a better person but i
can’t do it by myself or in my head or in the interpersonal diorama

Maybe u can’t separate

It’s inside and outside and not externalizable

a war of our own device
Correlative images wash into view

We comically fall off a cliff

Come into everyday life

Now double that out into open space

the performative enactment of our
always already

singing hosanna in the ear of anarchist bliss furiously falling into

waterfalls mysterious mischievous end

The other day laying in the green

Watching the everyday sky go from pitch to dim violet to pink it settles

Precious Okoyomon

Precious Okoyomon is a Brooklyn based poet and artist. She is the author of Ajebota (Bottlecap Press, 2016). Her writing has been performed and exhibited at the Baltic Triennial in Lithuania, the Contemporary Art Center in Cincinnati, Exo Exo in Paris and MoMA PS1 in New York. Her writing has been published in Hobart, Fanzine, New York Tyrant and elsewhere.She loves her sweet toy poodle named Rainbow and is a Leo that is very low key evil. She’s currently working on a book or two.

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