You are a systemic failure,

a weed I will use to make a poultice for my feet.

My jaw is slack and exhausted from talking to God,

my ears reverent from listening.

Sunlight colonizes the window glass,

makes cities we can see but not feel.

Innocence Threatened – Xhosa/Afrikaans Project

Poem in the original English, followed by translations to Xhosa and Afrikaans and back.

Blue light chases me.

My soul is cold,

spirit still dreaming.

In a meadow I roll down the hillocks

over and over,

my little sear suckered skirt frilly

over my still narrow hips.

A movie an angel might wish to watch

or a pederast.


Translation and edit:

In the meadow I roll down the hillock

my short skirt ruffled.

On my stretching back now,

a starlet with one hell of a fan.






A salivating sun

licks a sailboat lost from harbor.

What do I know about submission?

All steel and no magnolia.

Eloquence runs from me.

From my rib you can take a war.

What nation can be fed by my falling eyelashes

that this fluid angel warps around my form?

The Way Things Are

Your neighbors know you better than you do.

My hat is me-

black and white and full of

Hamptons zeitgeist.

On an irritable coastal crag a gaggle of

children considers drowning while their mothers read an Amish romance,

while their fathers surf with mirrors.

Night Road

Scarlet lights chase away the foamy,

ebony space of night.

Does the road remember my feet,

their burning wide imprints hunting for homeopathic


There was such a searing black pain in my bones,

glittering and sharp like the starry rocks in asphalt.

I hauled pain with me like water in those

uncivil days.


You always box

Always time.

He is a jazz concert

Do bunny slippers.

Together you the river

The dam was still missing

The flowmeter memory

And jargon like foam.

Open your mouth

And as a family to come