Hieronymus Square

By Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah

Is wealth leading inevitably to greed? Why the more we have, the more we have to lose? Does money solve problems? What about the questions of relationship with money and attitude, moral decay and recklessness that leading one to possess others as obects? What is the meaning of accumulating enough to have material secirity, personal independence, and social respectability? Are these the basically hard word and frugality of life? This work explores the phenomena such as greed, materialism, power, carelessness, infatuation, love, spirituality, and European dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah
• Release date: Apr 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224096114

Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah

Jacob Kobina Ayiah  Mensah[(╥║│═╚╣╕╞│╬╕─╕╣│╘╘╞╚╕─│Ħ) (also known in the Turtle Mountains, North Dakota, as Sitting Mountain)], a self-made Ojibwa, Basque, Catalan, Spanish, gypsy, a Black African tribe and Greek descent and a multilingual poet, multidisciplinary artist, and algebraist, works in mixed media. His most recent poetry chapbook is Kind Haven (The Operating System, 2020) and a full-length poetry collection in Spanish, agua y color, is forthcoming from Valparaiso Poetry Press. His poetry, songs, prose, art and hybrid works have appeared in numerous journals, including JMWW, Constellations, New Note Poetry, Chapter House Journal, Red Ogre Review, Newfound, The New Southern Fugitives, Inverted Syntax, The Elevation, Moon Shadow Sanctuary, Passenger Journal, Twisted Vine Literary Arts Journal, Millennial Pulp Literary Magazine, Trampoline, 1-70 Review, Beautiful Cadaver Project Pittsburgh, The Meadow, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, Rigorous, The Decadent Review, FOLK Magazine, Wards Lit Magazine, Cadinal Sins, zines + things, Juked, Juke Joint Magazine,  The William and Mary Review, Helen Literary Magazine, In Parentheses, Genre: Urban Arts, Roanoke Review, filling Station, Hawk & Whippoorwill, The Indianapolis Review, The Sandy River Review, Blackbox Manifold, Cordite Poetry Review, Amethys Review, Rogue Agent, Whimperbang, Emerys Journal, Night Music Journal, Cantos: A literary and Arts Journal, Abstract: Contemporary Expressions, Thirty West Publishing House, Aaduna, Terror House Magazine, Ygdrasil: A Journal of the Poetic Arts,  Castabout Art & Literature, Horseshoes & Hand Grenades, Hooligan Magazine, Unlikely Stories Mark V, Otoliths, Oddball Magazine, UTSANGA, Pithead Chapel, Wingless Dreamer, Cathexis Northwest Press, University of North Dakota, Meat for Tea, Fireflies' Light: A Magazine of Short Poems and others. His works in abstract mathematics include Arthur Algebras, Haiku Algebra, c-Algebra, Ỽ-Functions, Nortan Group, and Epic Ring. He lives in the southern part of Ghana, in Spain, and the Turtle Mountains, North Dakota.

Book preview

Contents

Hieronymus Square  The Dual   Nature Francis  Envoy to Paradise, Triptych

Hieronymus Square

1.

We wait here to see if we too can slip away into the next house,    this house which is larger than the country it is built in. Where  everybody can take clemency for weakness and difference of opinion  for crime. This is the house we still wait next exhibition   in their disappointment. Tomato plant is growing on the radiator         and they dislike this understanding. I remember the marks of their eyes  and how they have been painted in reds with Indian ink, and white clay,  and on the cheeks and you aspire to be one, you whose  virtues are odious passions, that are twisted round,   we climb the floating staircase to the last floor.  We see what we see with their sockets ahead of us,    I manage with your hands, woman, those hands you have stolen  from this square, this vigil, and your referee too is waiting  doggedly for what may follow. I see what he has said  having no effect on us when his right hands produce  a foolscap street to show a new direction, I cherish  this artistic composition and his gentleman in the way  he signs his name in a form of folding a large letter.  Now that we demand our price, we hang our pictures  in the Bureau separately or collectively with your head  in human, I break the silence you have built around  my failed body, I see nothing more than ridiculous  colours painted on the walls, you push me back into  a corner, from which, as often as I stand up into the plank,  I persist in emerging again from your wound, you say  I  need patience and follow the common the thin line  that divides the mind and the heart for a measure.  This is the daily trial we go through to find out about  the teaspoons if they sum up to execute any conceptions  of your paintings which are too feeble, they describe them,  this unfortunate rendering of everything I have kept  for his hour have a look inside to see how it works  and in what conditions it is, I wedge the paper firmly,  forgetting that the pictures on the floor are swallowing me.  I feel sure that the early symptoms are unmistakable  when your appearance is no longer quite under your control.  I loss your face, that dims, your skin that used to coarsen  also dimes, I cope with all these things and how you  have neglected yourself, I am drifting apart, and tireless  you are and transferring this to me and them, I have  noticed how this dogma and immaculate and irrelevant  your stand seems as the whole thing dropping from the ceiling.  Can I appoint a stoker and supply him kerosene for the burning?  I light up the lawns with a torch though it is still noon,  I wake up those who are still sleeping the park buried  in the snowdrift, we begin a new winter under your peaceful  outlook of my childhood, I still remember with your conscience.  I blame everything for all the misfortunes that follow the glittering  phrases in your teeth, I imagine that this is out of date, what  the viewers say about these pictures, I legalize their mouths.  I close the bottle for we are not yet openly hostile to each other. 

2.

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Three drops of water spread across the whole floor  and you wonder why this is possible at this hour  when roaring voices are deafening and there is  a sudden lull, and the clucking behind the wall  becomes isolated words among moving shadows,  we calmly stretch our strength to empty the wet,  the room remains in a lit by the guttering candle.  Having