Peacock Smile

Zik climbed into,

slipped his eel hips through:

their peacock smiles

rattling his salty testes

in a taroted dice game,

with their flip-flop

gangrenous conscience.

Latter Day…?

with wispy hair

beard of milk

distant, confusing eyes,

the similarity was there

but

when they found

he had nailed himself

             rusted,

             relentless

             alone,

             exact

to the floor boards,

the hammer arced

in his mouth,

his face alive with blood

and a million dancing

smiles,

well man, then they knew

where freedom

was still free.

In the flowering Silence

in the flowering silence

of a swaying cathedral

strutting a cosmic Rise,

incense,

lace

pencilled shadows

eroded hopes,

someone naked knelt,

and a slow electric organ

found him her it

not understanding

being

himherit.

Hoop

Prut dit in die osoonborrels,

drome van ’n stoomfontein,

vanuit ’n tarot suite se rinkel-rinkel?

Lê dit in ’n uitgelekde oogkas

van vriend Koki,

tussen die savannes van my maagspiere,
of die Oppenheimer-splitsing se pers droom?

Dalk vanaf die gelapde lippe van ’n chanteuse

wat oberammergauerig in ’n venster

sit en snik-dut

of, daar waar die see so ribbes

maak op Strandfontein se strand?

Van waar?

An old Flemish refrain

(memories of a happy day with 2 children)

a walk:

past a mill and a church

-Your early shyness still showing-

and then through Flanders Fields

of maize & flowers,

the June sun a new ode.

These were the things I saw

today as we Volvoed along Meerlaanstraat:

-Daniel becomes the Rocket Man,

-the Teddy Bear house winks,

-another shy girl trying

to join us on our stumbles and laughter trail

over cobbles , past pains and rougher pavements

-the rabbits, the pigeons, the crows

grey barking dogs and shadows from lofts

-the sweetness of a sip you gave me

from your bottles.

All these now-trite things;

so terrifyingly clear still,

an almost obscene clarity of every

gesture, nuance and smell

of our day of roller-blading

in Meerlaanstraat.

for A & D 1.8.99

For the Dead

Seven unflickering black candles

smouldered steadily,

high in the mountains

where

maroon-robed priests, chanting,

encircled a grey marble sarcophagus

for the mega-star that

realised, too late,

he was a lesser harlequin.

Eensame Vrou, met geld, in manswinkel

Ses-en-twintig maande spaar sy al,

die geld, 

rol sy dit in haar Volkskasspaarrekening in, 

pensioen en disability alles saam,

elke maand die ri1poskantoorritueel;

(teer en liefdevol volbring)

stap sy Adderley en Burg af,

en op, en af-

amper asof : die-1ieven-Heer-dit gegee-het

vi r-haar-soos-Hy-beloof-het-in

haar-uit-Die-Beek,

en sien in Hepworths se platheid
sowaar die regte man:

jong snor, knus skouers, druiperige North Stars

"Nee, ek wi1 nou nie eintlik iets spesifieks koop nie,

nee, rêri g ni e, wi1 net...”(?)

kyk, hier’s R20.00

..ja, wi1 net (skaam) na jou kyk,

jou 1ippe sien dans onder jou snor,

nee, niks nie,

wi1 jy dan nie die geld hê nie (huiwering, palpitasie),

nie genoeg nie?

Ja, ek het R2813.76!” (trots)

Kan ek môre weer inkom,

Vanmiddag dan?

Kyk, as ek betaal mag ek mos maar elke dag inkom,

ek betaal mos?

Ja, vat maar die R20.00, vir 'n tip.