From spirals in wet red Came shapes with limbs That could move in time And rhythm with the syncopated voices, Finding pockets of colour And washes of groove Stacked higher than their Legs could reach Still, they shiver now With the whisper Of something they wish To Know, Beyond the grey gates Of home and bone To the place Of the Pulse Of unfired desire, Just there yonder, Step by step to find Your power That no machine Could capture In chips And the quantized Quotidian That still Feels like Life. - words by Kwasu Tembo