Two Poems

by Bethuel Muthee

The Old Guitarist

(for N, at Pasara)

The narrow stairwell winds up in dim light
while pop culture, frozen in time, watches
or averts it gaze- smoking, dreaming:
Pulp Fiction, Boulevard of Broken Dreams,
Lady Day and them.

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by Clifton Gachagua

one never imagines to find their body
as part of the night revisions of a poet’s
imagination. yet here i am, living
next to an abandoned cemetery —
the cemeteries of Uswazi have their own lives
outside city council ideals — living outside
& inside the place you’ve come to call conditional.

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