She loves you,
like the bitter frost
loves winter’s cold, true
passage.
She needs you,
like the weary desert traveller
needs the mirage’s ghostly
presence.
She wants you,
like the cranking windmill
wants the wind’s battering
embrace.
She’s lost you,
like the tired lighthouse
has lost so many ships
passing.
Sometimes, when the moonshine fades from the night, I find myself glowing softly – the only source of light And in this between time,...
Lightning races its way across the sky’s canvas, dodging and ducking like a tsotsi accelerating from the cops. Traffic snakes and winds...
You say numbers I see colours He says months You see shapes She plays music I taste flavours We tell stories You hear accusations We...
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