Forever Travelling

Termites massed
forever curving away
along the red dust
of the country track
their destination
their departure

The Peace Deal (September 2008)

Those three hands shaking
And up from them
Three arms tentacling
In dark suit jackets encased
To three faces
Flashing white teeth
That tell nothing
Of the political thought
As that stone of the sky up there
Forever entombing us all

It Can't

This chant
that chases
after the twilight glow
That soars
above the rooftop
of the bottle store
as smoke writhes
and suddenly flares
its skirts from reluctant fires
when ZESA blinks its stupid eye again
as that dumbfounded infant
asked by the class teacher
one minus two
before it can comprehend
two minus one-

'It can't
we are not bums -
says Obama;
A government for the people
Not a government against the people...'

untitled

Country peeling
Old crusty skin
Lovers and haters
Plucking the drifting flakes
blown before
cynical currents
Trying to patch tattered dreams
That still
In their gaunt eyes gleam
Like unflinching agate
In sun-blasted
Wind-blasted
Mute deserts