The M(N)STRY: Time Camp Poems


During the past two Sundays, I participated in Black Quantum Futurism’s Time Camp 004 and it was a deeply rich experience that I will continue to reflect on going into the future. In the meantime, here are four poems that I wrote during some of the workshops:

(Above image credit: Space-Time Collapse I – BQF Collective)


A photo I took of the Dolphin Fountain Gardens in Barbados

Ship-Shifting Statues


The dolphin fountain

its gardens are the first image

I see

I turn

and then I see again

the clock has become laughter

in a former colonized town

becomes a time traveler

in a ship

the ship is a submarine

roots itself in the dissolving

roots itself in the earth

and rises up into my body

the clock becomes a pot

within and I pour waters

full of memory

into it and stir

adding Lavender

adding Calendula

adding Rose 

until I feel the warmth of medicine

the warmth of oneness again

sprouting forth into being


Free (W)Rite

A map is a kind of knob of a door

A way of entering

What would our travels be

if a map was not 2-dimensional

but folded into a shape

like the knob

or like the paper fortune teller

Pull the tab, open it and find yourself here

coming to be

in the midst of opening and closing

like a mouth divining fate

Pull an edge open

and find yourself here

where the X/is

the point of x-change

of communion

of when the pen hits the surface

and all intersections flow

come here after I ask

where do I go?


Bang on the K-KN

The incubator of sound

kinetic tic tic

flourish

the whole nest

holding the egg

as it beings to crack

within you

the crack is the cry

of a new dawn

unveiling the shy shell

the mouth is a crack ling

breaking open an alter

round the world

into a new design

for the lost kin

steered by (re)turning sailors

a totality of blackness

a totem or a code

at the end of a sound

that says so much

of what’s been held within


Black (KW)Hole NDur

(E) = NT X eR^(2)

A space of safety where you find yourself

the ship as itself guiding itself

the quilt wrapped around

reworks time into home

The Amen — it is (K)now

Mmoatia

A memory of other times

forms of being

with the outer world

the gate opens

into an utter

of ____________________

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