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from the May 2012 issue


From my face made puffy by the swelling of centuries my shithead laughter, I gaze at you from my manure where negro death unfolds in mass, crater bodies in rotten piles, pink abscess on vagina in bloom, smooth penis, stuck inert in the still pulsating throat of the latest cut-carved
On my pile,
Let there now be modernity,
Let there now be prosperity,
Let there now be liberty, I perish humus by my flesh

You may now develop, emerge, grow, increase, consume, see, you are
progressing, prospering, shining, dêmokratia, land of human gods
Now chant.
Power of the people over the negro death
From the depths of the hold, dêmos
From the depths of the plantation, dêmos,
From the depths of the colony, dêmos,
From the depths of independence, scraping in the dregs of republics, republic of Negroes, independence my dear, dêmos,
And scrape the power
And scrape abundance,
The hemp of modernity
Luxury and profusion to intoxicate the nations.
©  Jean-Luc Raharimanana. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2012 by Antoine Bargel and Alexis Pernsteiner. All rights reserved.

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