no one knows

where do all the fragments of moods go?

last week i blamed the moon

the week before that my shedding womb

this week the warm berg winds unexpectedly melting

our hibernating hearts

the blood and bones collide

no one knows which direction to go

out of joint

the widening gyre 

the people can not hear the poets

the poets do not hear themselves

the sky crumbles

the anchor dissolves

the heart sinks

still 

the soul 

keeps 

rising

may 2024

klou

 verbete klou ek 

styf vas

aan 

die steierwerk

van

jou soene

hoekom kom jy nie nader nie?

my spiere is in die pad
die stopstrate is in die pad

my ribbekas is in die pad

die definisies is in die pad

my oë is in die pad

die ratstok is in die pad

my hart is in die pad

die geheue is in die pad

my self-beeld is in die pad

die woorde is in die pad

my weersin in teleurstelling is in die pad

die voorouers is in die pad

my verbeelding is in die pad

die begeerte is in die pad