Monday, 17 March 2014

into the deep salt of the ear and paper

in a language other than my mother tongue
i look for the hollows in my throat 
where the rain spiders can spin a web for my words
i fold my shoulders open
as if i had wings
feel the newest air fill my jowls
and every other crevice

and relieve me of my screen and button addiction

i am so in love with my idea of solitude
do i really know what it means?
is it a place where the scar tissue
in the mind and soul
can rest
and not get stung with unnecessary twists?

not just my mind and soul
but my skeleton feels the exhilaration
of the sad freedom of solitude

in the silences between the words
i hunger for the ritual of soil and water
and fire
simply this:
to touch these elements with all of my senses
the act-ual melting into the elements
and nothing more
if it does not come i am going to break
or break free

between dreaming, writing and shrinking
i choose writing
because it is a real caress weighing down
right into the deep salt of the ear and paper
where my proud anger can breathe a bit of looseness
into its rigidity
and rinse the mouth of all dread
and loosen the belt around my selfishness

i refuse to categorize anything
leave space for grey matters
it is both jeans and circumtrance that shape us
no running away from either, even though they keep 
falling off the restless bum

i have an indefatigable desire to 
be a better person than I am right now
i feel helpless, continually wanting to awol
to the deep pools where i can swim the seasons into each other
to my fantasies of words 
basking eternally under the sun
I want to run in the rain 
and feel again the slipperiness under 
my bare feet tripping over mud and gnarly roots

the days of the quaking reality 
trembling in the hand
are luckily not yet past


diep in die sout van die oor en papier

in 'n taal nie my moedertong
soek ek vir die holtes in my keel
waar die reën-spinnekoppe 'n web kan spin vir my woorde
ek vou my skouers oop
asof ek vlerke het
voel hoe die nuutste lug my kiewe
en al die ander holtes vul

en verlos my van my skerm- en tikbordverslawing

ek is so verlief op my idee van eensaamheid
weet ek regtig wat dit beteken?
is dit 'n plek waar die letsels
in my kop en my siel
kan rus
en nie verdraai word met onnoddige kinkels?

nie net my kop en siel
maar ook my skelet voel die uitbundigheid
van die hartseer vryheid van eensaamheid

in die stiltes tussen die woorde
honger ek vir die ritueel van grond en water
en vuur
eenvoudig dit:
om die elemente met al my sintuie aan te raak
die waar-agtige smelt diep in die elemente
en niks meer
as dit nie gaan kom sal ek breek
of vry breek

tussen droom, skryf en krimp
kies ek skryf
want dit is ‘n ware vertroeteling wat diep inweeg
reg in die sout van die oor en papier
waar my trotse woede 'n bietjie losheid kan inasem
in sy rigiditeit
en spoel die mond van alle skrik
en maak die belt rondom my selfsug los

ek weier om enige iets te kategoriseer
los plek vir grys affêres
dit is beide gene en omstandighede wat ons vorm
geen weghardloop van enige een, al hou hulle aan
om van die rustelose boude af te val

ek het 'n onversadigbare begeerte om
'n beter mens te wees as wat ek nou is
ek voel hulpeloos, wil alewig weghol
na die diep poele waar ek die seisoene aanmekaar kan swem
na die fantasieë van my woorde
verewig bakkend in die son
ek wil hardloop in die reën
en weer die glibberigheid voel onder
my kaalvoete wat trippel oor modder en dig-geknoopte wortels

die dae van die beurende realiteit
bewend in die hand
is gelukkig nie verby

Saturday, 15 March 2014

your sleep


                  for Kim

when you fall off to sleep
you glow
like the inside of
an almond
so alluringly touchable

yet Sleep is guardian of the body
shielding you from the world
and my stirring hands

your sleep is the still sleep of marble
sculpted by the gentle blade of shadow
and night’s light

you sleep quietly like plains of amber
open for the night to discover you in
all your sleeping splendour
the moonlit clouds break open
in whispers at the sight of your slumber

so softly serene your body in slumber

how blessed to wake next to you
like waking next to
a murmuring field of rye

if only i could be there 
deep within your sleep
and feel so entirely close to you,
so completely with you