I read your mind, so intelligently
As I sat like a philosophers in meditation-
Sitting on my half burnt stool, in my sub-Saharan home,
You so far away in Bristol city
Transferring your wit in virtual lectures-
Now I am you; a mature poet.
Your sketchy notes still brims me now-

Leading me where to put a comma,
A metaphor, a simile, block letter, a question mark
The urge to create tone, texture, atmosphere-
And that warning daring as a death cry is still with me
Such thorough a warning against addiction to descriptive words-
Adverbs, adjective, verbiage- that you called monsters of poetic writing
"Punctuate for emphasis", “you penned in bold italics-
To make poetry readable, digestible, enjoyable."
In the end it occurred like you wanted- "I am able."¯

Poet tutor you are the star
Here I am read my mind
I can read yours mind too
And all minds of poets at Writers Lounge
And of all poets in Diasporas- the dadaistic,
The nihilistic, the iconoclastic just as if it's prose.