An Autochthnonous Migration
clothed in white
sits a king
A teacher of international literature in English, he sounds presumptuous. His list grows, which list. Experienced writers shot through The Canon, who decides.
Appreciation breeds knowledge and understanding, repetition the lesser known power-tool. He spins like Duffy’s narrator in “Head of English.”
Although not a fan of rhyme, somewhat of rhythm, the genre more so because I’ve written quite a bit of poetry myself. He explores competitions and publishing opportunities, sends submissions with fees, some free, thinking one above the other.
The paper chase now in space tangles his path of recognition. He is unsure of new territories, taken aback by exclusive categories of which he is none – U25 Asian female, continental African, African-American, indigenous Papuan, LGBYT flourishes to LGBYTTQQIAAP, specific denizens. He may not apply. Residents of first migrations, original Tribes christened Native, slaves of history’s memory trade, writing a movement of machines, born in a place less confessed. Originally it was his, brevity of First Nations, now the believing billions.