terug |
ek mis die inval sonder om te dink. onbeplande aandetes en lee bottels wyn op die vloer. die sagte musiek en die rook. ek mis die lag. ek mis die goed wat ek gedink het ek verstaan maar after gekom he...
Posted by on Thu, 16 Apr 2009 06:46:00 GMT |
the sea at night |
in the silent dark i sit thinking back about what i said. i wont come back. i remember your eyes searching my face, but i wouldnt say any more. you broke into a smile again and everything returned to ...
Posted by on Thu, 22 Jan 2009 05:15:00 GMT |
we are the disposable |
the ink stains on our fingersacross our brows like runwayswe are the whispering and the delightthe silent enemies and thefrail percursorswe are the tongue tiedthe empty eyedwe are the dead end streets...
Posted by on Tue, 04 Nov 2008 04:24:00 GMT |
ink |
my veins fill with ink as i listen to the battle song. it is late. at this hour the streets turn into rivers. i havent eaten for the last seventeen hours. i have been drinking wine. bottle a...
Posted by on Wed, 03 Sep 2008 15:07:00 GMT |
fish |
we walk past each other in the rain. the incessant, persistent rain beating down lines upon the brittle, colourless skin of our backs turned towards the dark face sun. we talk with our voice...
Posted by on Mon, 07 Jul 2008 07:14:00 GMT |
sit back and watch |
the train's still not moving. the whistle blows. the white sign goes up. its suprisingly warm inside the station. after running. to. and away. i cough and i spit the rest of my house ke...
Posted by on Thu, 19 Jun 2008 07:20:00 GMT |
trespass |
i remember the nights. being shook awake by my father. the smell of sleep. of jasmine and dogs. the cold air slapping my face as i open the old wooden front door of the farm house. the metal...
Posted by on Tue, 03 Jun 2008 07:30:00 GMT |
rachel’s daughter |
she laughs. when she cries. drewling spit onto her chin. plastic eyes shining and starless. she laughs. when she hungers. fingers stuck inside her ears to fend of the buzzing ...
Posted by on Wed, 28 May 2008 05:03:00 GMT |
9:10 westbound |
she is made of milkher earsthe nape of her neck andher breastsher expressionlessfaceher handsher rosy cheeksher closed eyes thatstare at me
her closed mouth that never smiles
she is made of milkand i ...
Posted by on Wed, 21 May 2008 07:58:00 GMT |
joburg |
on his knees it seems. in the street. he is burning.black skin turning into black ink. like a dried out veld in winter. that cuts into the soles of your milk white feet the ne...
Posted by on Tue, 20 May 2008 06:50:00 GMT |
