On Byung-Chul Han

We acquainted in the
typical municipality,

where the heart was made
unprofessional.

One's setback was the lack
of precise theme.

The same scientific bridge
as its philosophical quality.
Boys stuck like drywall
glued with gypsum on the
wall.

Inescapable vines: Vincent,
Daniels, and Moses.

April turns around the
roads into a chasm,
The conversation turns into
a competition.

The Chinese plant
recrudescences, the papers
on the cochlear get better.

The freightliner, emotions,
etc
— access to sunlight.

And where the undisguised
mesas stood — Andrew,
werewolves, bookshelves.

On the gravelled road, I'm
reuniting the juvenile
memory.

Once, I was coerced there
into a contemporary
nihilism.

The hub was full of dead
languages, colour again
would slowly fade.

Rabiu Temidayo is a writer honored by Oxford and the Sorbonne, and a Best of the Net nominee. His work appears in Acropolis Journal, Selcouth Station, Juke Joint Journal, and Dreich. X: @rabiutemidayo.