we left karenga

my phone rang. 'you come to the convent. bring esteben.' we tossed the frisbee under the porch and climbed the small hill to the convent porch.

wobbly wooden tables; a few chairs. the sisters brought out a few bottles. one last evening wine at the convent.

the last few days in karenga were more productive than the entirety of the preceding two months. tolim akibap nabo, said countless men and women into stephen's recorder. komol was content to say baz, ezeruaze aago. nané ranuk.

some days, you just can't get any work done in karenga. on those days, you should play frisbee. if you do that, you'll be a lot more productive on the days when you could conceivably get work done.





some days, there's a rat in the bathroom, and stephen will kill it with a squeegie.



rain fell. plants were reflected out of my bedroom window. shoes were washed in impromptu fashion. nobody would play frisbee in it with me. portraits in diffuse, blue light.







we said goodbye. augustine took one last snort of my tobacco. komol stepped around the kitchen. father raphael drove us halfway to kitgum, where we would spend a day with ryan mccabe before traveling in his company the rest of the way to kitgum.







often wished there was a way
to restrain the things;
i say, i often wished there was a way
to restrain the things i say
like ‘stay—
stay, if only for today’
but there may not be
or have been
but i’ll stay—
i’ll stay, if only for today;
stay still, still stay—
stay for a moment
a passing gulp
of this mellifluent effluent
(i could never restrain it)
and i say—
i often wished there was a way
to restrain the things.
i say, i often wished there was a way
—as modeled by certain low spots—
to restrain the outflow,
(to be an effluvial plain.)
but they pass by;
no way to restrain the things:
i say, i often wished there was a way
to restrain the things
the things i say,
or the sundry things
effluents convey
(mellifluent effluents!
i hope again soon
you’ll pass my way.)