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The Bobo March
by Curtis Cushman
March is French for market. In this case, the sprawling, color-rife, and often bewildering market of Bobo-Dioulasso in todays Burkina Faso stands as a metaphor for the selections in this book. Only the first eponymous poem takes place in the market itself. The others are scattered from a landscape blistered by a classic, and thus tragic, drought, to the deep forest of the Equator. Here is set the final story, The Parrots of the Rainbow, capturing the myth tales of an African storyteller.
Meet the Red Lands and the Emerald.
Welcome to Bobo March.
I never before knew what was meant
By the ancient oceans inside me,
Until this morning,
Beneath the solemn foreign trees,
I knew within my stranded heart
The course of falling seas About the Author
Curtis D. Cushman wrote The Bobo March years ago in West and Central Africa where he lived and worked for four years. The ease of modern publishing and printing compelled him to take time off from his hectic career in engineering geology to produce this work. He is a resident of the Pacific Northwest.
(2012, paperback, 140 pages)