I love words. I am not sure I know the difference between poetry and prose anymore. To arrange words on a canvas, to make ordinary words roar at the senses with life, what does it matter, the labels? If it sings to me, if it makes my soul dance, that is poetry... 
I remember my first book. I was about four years old. It was a picture book of animals. You poked the animal and it emitted a sound. I loved that book. My favorite animal was the elephant. I loved her sound.
My parents also bought me a volume of short stories. From a traveling salesman. Uncle Arthur's Bedtime Stories, it was called. Several volumes . I read them all in a week. My mother was upset with me, how could I be this ungrateful? These things cost money, she moaned!
My favorite uncle was Elephant. Yes, I had an uncle, Elephant, smart as a whip, dumb as rocks in the white man's classroom. And proud of of it. I had a parrot also. Her name was Parrot. Yes, Parrot. Parrot died a decade after Biafra. Elephant is no longer here. I am still here.
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