2007 Texts

1051. 1 January 2007 - 7:50am
I heard no Lang Syne
last night, just the whimper
of the year led away
to history like Saddam
to menace in the scaffolding
of renovation like a split plank.

1052. 2 January 2007 - 6:54am
Mussel shells turn & twist
in the ankle tide that invades
the beach like a ferocious army,
dashes itself on the implacable
rocks, captured in pools
at my feet.

1053. 3 January 2007 - 7:19am
The night fractures into shards
of dream that shatter
across the purple mountains
as mirrors of the mind.
There I fly, an impossible stone,
in perfect peace.

1054. 4 January 2007 - 6:47am
I remember learning the physics
of a falling body.
How it accelerates
at 32 feet per second in a vacuum.
The potential & kinetic energies.
Nothing of a noose.

1055. 5 January 2007 - 7:33am
Nor to yield with the weather,
nor sing with the chorus.
For what am I but a whisper
in the wind: listen to my song,
my weeping. Yes, it blows
from the north.

1056. 6 January 2007 - 7:40am
I navigate this asteroid belt
of words in my cockleshell
dream. Each second, it seems,
chunks of Ted Hughes
lurch & spin out of night
with malice of meaning.

1057. 7 January 2007 - 8:32am
The eagle lifts the valley
where I sit. Lifts my eye
to consider his views,
master of his fate,
he thinks. But not:
see the world turns
and only I see him soar.

1058. 8 January 2007 - 7:06am
I sip tea over the lip
of this city, listen to its yawn
& little cries. Hear Type A's
contest each junction
as they race to thrombosis.
Some are already dead.

1059. 9 January 2007 - 7:38am
The last poet is quiet now,
her lines a filigree of light
brightening a cerebral night.
You will find her in the bar
still, conversing with a fly,
with Jameson.

1060. 10 January 2007 - 7:05am
...and know not me.
In recital I hear his voice
as the dead poet rises
from the lines as if standing
in the palm of God & all around
the crowd presses toward.

1061. 11 January 2007 - 6:45am
...and sweat under a weary life.
So to retrace, release these fardels.
Find the heart's true North,
the right song, my voice,
the yellow wood,
the old mystery.

1062. 12 January 2007 - 8:23am
...and is never shaken.
True minds orbit the same star,
feel the gravity of bodies
close enough to know
yet not to clash. Often,
in your eye, I see my smile.

1063. 13 January 2007 - 7:51am
...and sorry I could not travel...
So dreamed of you,
of who & when & where,
of the line of your lips,
the exact pitch & metre
that, when I hear you,
I know.

1064. 13 January 2007 - 8:15pm
So, the horizon's edge
tacked by the dark thread
of a Cape Fur seal,
pulls the fabric of evening
into the depths of night.
Here, in a palace of dreams,
I sleep.

1065. 14 January 2007 - 7:34am
...'twas but a dream...
Last night at the theatre of nightmares,
the spirits had left,
only silence remained.
Suddenly, I felt a presence:
the warmth of you.

1066. 15 January 2007 - 6:47am
...entire of itself.
He touched many with an old
& unrehearsed laugh.
Beneath the grin & sparkling eyes
lay a resolve of gunmetal
& cordite, held in gentleness.

1067. 16 January 2007 - 6:54am
...and the silent isle embowers...
Are these the graves
of my people in stone soil?
See a namesake lies,
like flint of opinion,
& prays yet for the love of God.

1068. 17 January 2007 - 7:15am
...and summer's lease...
These winds call
with southern voices
unspoilt by continent
or island opinion
or northern certainties
or categories
or bluster
or airs.

1069. 18 January 2007 - 7:42am
And now good morrow...
Morning hones the day's blade
to sever sinews of dream.
Yet I would sleep on
had I world enough.
Or time. But the tide is neap
& turns.

1070. 19 January 2007 - 6:40am
I seek a line that draws
a fine view from the rim
of this cup as I look to the mountain
& the mist as white as steam
as if the city is an engine
shunting below.

1071. 20 January 2007 - 6:51am
...midnight's moments forest...
Through the trees, creatures
of my dream advance
with bared canines
to plunge into the throat
of my terror. I strike out
at you.

1072. 21 January 2007 - 7:06am
Praise from the vaulted roof
falls on deaf ears
of the vaulted casket
where Richard lies dead.
His body broken, but free
as any song sung now
by angel or man.

1073. 21 January 2007 - 9:57am
The eye of the elephant
looks over her land
baking in Sunday torpor
as if a city of ants
ignorant of realities,
push & shove with industry
& commerce beneath.

1074. 22 January 2007 - 7:48am
The amphitheatre lies
under the mountain
like an echo. Here, song
falls on ear like wind
that ruffles children's hair
and blows old leaves
across the lawn.

1075. 23 January 2007 - 7:05am
I pray under a Muslim moon,
under my breath lest my gods,
listening now, hear.
What would a lifelong friend
make of it? The empty church
wintered in the lea.

1076. 24 January 2007 - 7:04am
I read a line of poetry
of the Old Cape when this was
a far place, an oasis,
in the deserted sea
where the rage of God
knows a man's fear.
Here, I read poetry.

1077. 24 January 2007 - 10:14pm
No day passes without you
in my awakening as if all
of history is an instant
in my longing. So I turn
each jewel of memory,
see each facet gleam
in your eye.

1078. 25 January 2007 - 6:46am
The waterfront beats to songs
of the night. Seared smoke
from the grills of fire
blows across the dock
where trawlers prepare for dawn
& the gale driven sea.

1079. 26 January 2007 - 7:36am
These morning rhythms
interrupted by the wakening
clock hurrying me & you
in our embrace of paradise.
You, the Eve, ever tempting
& such a wee snake
between us.

1080. 27 January 2007 - 7:22am
The apothecary's balm soothes
an old ache. Though time
has healed skin & bone,
& barely a crease shows,
I remember that wound,
that betrayal, that sunny day.

1081. 28 January 2007 - 7:15am
A line of reasoning leads
to an end. There it lies concluded.
A line of revelation leads
to a beginning. Wisdom is where
poetry joins the lines
with beauty.

1082. 29 January 2007 - 7:26am
I listen to a star breathe tonight
in a temple of the new moon.
There, each stone is carved
& laid by a master who speaks in tongues
of men & angels. O Caritas.

1083. 30 January 2007 - 7:04am
At last she returned. Picked her way
through the rubble & ruins of home,
found a ladle where the kitchen was,
her old teddy with button eyes
& stitched tears.

1084. 31 January 2007 - 7:32am
The last nightmare hurries
from the light, still screaming,
still echoing in the temples
of my skull which stands a kremlin
fortified to friend & foe
& ravens.

1085. 1 February 2007 - 6:42am
The last poet leaves
the city. It sleeps now
though each vein throbs still.
The poet joins a caravan
crossing emptiness like a summer
swallow to find an oasis.

1086. 2 February 2007 - 6:18am
The night wakes me
in its revolution & traffic.
But I rise upon the airs
of the Imam's call of faith
that stands always erect
in its stone tower, indicative.

1087. 2 February 2007 - 9:52pm
Do you know, I said
to the coach who was thinking
for me, that on her 50th birthday
I fucked your wife?
Yes, he said, I know
everything, but understand

1088. 3 February 2007 - 6:19am
Silence rejects the world,
hides in its cloisters
& musty shelves among tomes & ages.
Or, is it the consent
of Thomas More?
The man lost his head
in a basket.

1089. 4 February 2007 - 8:04am
The tomb is dark
say the living.
The light there shines within.
Also there is water
in the depths of peace.
All wants are gone.
All is disrobed
in the gardens.

1090. 5 February 2007 - 7:14am
There is a long road
I must take to understand
these metaphors that masquerade
as poetry. As if the painting
were life and life a painting.
And I a camera.

1091. 6 February 2007 - 6:27am
History is a poem
epic in its vision
& its blindness.
A poem of such melody
& cacophony, so tender,
so cruel, it must be
of the gods who muse
so in my affairs.

1092. 7 February 2007 - 7:04am
What equations differentiate
the calculus of your curves?
Touches the parabola of desire
to my axis. Sees imaginary
numbers in your dimensions.
And kisses you.

1093. 8 February 2007 - 6:18am
The cassocked priest incants
in tongues before the crucifix
nailed to the old wooden gate.
It swings open & we enter
into the catacombed gloom
of my nightmare.

1094. 8 February 2007 - 9:38pm
The hourglass figure stands before me,
sands of time in her veins.
Give me the Sahara
or the Namib at least!
She moves beneath her skirt,
the sea mist cold now.

1095. 9 February 2007 - 7:00am
Beneath the shift the movement
that moves the garment
to reveal to me my mind's play
in sandpits of imagination
& metaphor where illusion alludes
to a climax.

1096. 10 February 2007 - 8:39am
The Xhosa woman sings
a song of longing
for valley & kraal
far from this padlocked city.
There she feels ancestors
stir the night
& the touch of his hands.

1097. 10 February 2007 - 10:06pm
The poet said,
confessing an aside,
I'm a drama addict in recovery,
having sipped a draught of the Lethe,
forgot what was said next.
Turns to the crowd to sing.

1098. 11 February 2007 - 9:17am
The word carries history in its train.
Don't you love when it clatters over points
of dispute or drops an old carriage off
at a siding of the archaic
or poetic?

1099. 12 February 2007 - 7:18am
There is a learning,
which comes with age,
that presses in on me
like a dark blanket of reason,
that would explain the world,
me, light, every goddamned thing.

1100. 12 February 2007 - 0:57pm
See an old man
in this toddler's face
already impressing lines
of age that distinguish him.
So, these memories of character
display to me my past
in the mirror.

1101. 13 February 2007 - 8:15am
As my love sleeps in the temple
her ship deeps in waters.
I hear the swain's drum,
the creak of oak & sisal,
the harmony of canvas,
the bell of the watch sound.

1102. 14 February 2007 - 7:49am
She enters the verandah,
draws eyebeads along threads
of attention, interrupts conversation
& thoughts of gentlemen.
So I attend on her
with this page's laugh.

1103. 15 February 2007 - 7:29am
Valentine is forgotten,
that time already occupied
by another space.
Or are these memories
of another whose orbit
I now transect,
this wheel of fortune turning?

1104. 15 February 2007 - 8:49pm
These metaphors are coins
in a wishing well.
Either heads or tails
reflecting on the role of chaos
in the order of desires.
The stream flows, the trout kneads.

1105. 16 February 2007 - 6:59am
A stream flows & yet
the  rain comes knowing nothing
of the river. Of the sea
still less. So it is with me.
I understand nothing of reasons,
in awe of seasons.

1106. 17 February 2007 - 7:37am
I am lost for words
this morning lying here
in bed with you & hot
tea sipped over soft lips.
And the light & warmth
of conversation wraps
us still as we touch.

1107. 18 February 2007 - 8:06am
The boxer next door lives
confined in a narrow yard
by the vision of her owner.
Were she a slave as perhaps
her master's forefathers were,
he would understand.

1108. 19 February 2007 - 6:50am
Even so the day begins
in the suburb as it jogs
into movement as if stretching
in the first rays.
The street is quiet as a frangipani,
but for our passing chat.

1109. 20 February 2007 - 7:30am
O Ziziphus! Take my heart,
pierce it with thy jealousy.
Crown this English rose.
Call me to the shade,
bury me in bramble.
See there the light,
O Spina Christi.

1110. 21 February 2007 - 6:56am
I found the key at last
to a gate always locked.
Last night I turned the key,
heard the bolt slide back,
hinges, long unused, creak,
stood on the threshold.

1111. 22 February 2007 - 6:55am
Words fall from her jawline
at an angle to my ear,
here where sound meets
circuit & the dance begins
with slow rhythms of lovers'
thoughts. Our song, my lady.

1112. 23 February 2007 - 6:20am
Two old friends meet for lunch.
Greyed now by slow wisdom
they discuss youth & folly.
How their hearts failed & faltered.
How they turned to bitterness blindly.

1113. 24 February 2007 - 7:00am
Through the window tall pines
bow to a SE breeze
in slow rhymes as
the radio station plays
Mozart for me to hum
while I watch you naked
as a sun lights my day.

1114. 25 February 2007 - 7:02am
I close the book.
The story history, time
to pause, reflect on right
& wrong between the lines.
But the tide falls upon the sands,
returns to the deep knowing.

1115. 25 February 2007 - 10:18am
As I age & shadows lengthen,
so the mystery approaches,
so fascination & fear
deepen. I search for metaphors
to clothe myself. Watch the world
paint by numbers.

1116. 25 February 2007 - 3:46pm
The green hull of the trawler
tethered in Kalk Bay's
oily harbour like a long dead
mackerel floating listless,
ignored by the old Cape Fur
whose patch this is.

1117. 25 February 2007 - 4:04pm
My boyhood tramps down this road
before dawn in Wellingtons & oil skins,
Mum's warm white polar neck
keeping a brisk breeze at bay.
The old boats working still.

1118. 26 February 2007 - 6:48am
I have heard the Imam
call me from my worship
this morning at your temple
where I felt the substance
of you. These harmonies
& little cries from minaret
& dome.

1119. 27 February 2007 - 7:15am
Have you seen a naked angel
in the kitchen preparing
breakfast? That dreamy look
as you undress a banana,
the sticky flesh of the mango,
how you suck its pith.

1120. 28 February 2007 - 7:05am
Lengthening nights awaken
spirits of autumn.
Denude the oaks & nymphs.
Their garments flutter to my roots.
Enrich a woody world, imagined
by starkest winter.

1121. 1 March 2007 - 7:12am
Distance arrives, a dear friend
waves, her voice lost
in the hubbub. I know she grieves
the parting, her eyes tell me.
We turn away, embrace our love
once more.

1122. 2 March 2007 - 6:51am
My power wanes
as the old world turns
about a son, it too burning bright.
Yet I bend & stand aside
to childish order
lest my flame be seen
among familiar stars.

1123. 2 March 2007 - 7:04am
Did I hear of rebirth yesterday?
I have revisited that warmth
often in my years,
but as a man. The child in me
turns to wisdoms, annoys my love
& is not kindly.

1124. 2 March 2007 - 7:12am
If poetry is the alphabet
of art, a colour
in the metaphor of pallet,
to lick my lip with melody
that hears the stars turn
in the clockwork galaxy,
I am lost.

1125. 3 March 2007 - 7:55am
The poet reads words
still smoking on the page,
her voice unsteady as her hand.
Overhead, three geese fly
to roost in failing light
& I miss the punch line.

1126. 4 March 2007 - 7:09am
A secret as deep as Egypt
is buried in tide & clock.
Between each shadow cast
in the tombs of thieves
& lost daughters, Fayed
recounts his many fingers.

1127. 5 March 2007 - 7:08am
At the apex a man balances
his money by the weight
of his concerns: his face lined
with words he never got
to speak. After a while
he fell & the money spilled.

1128. 6 March 2007 - 7:17am
How long does anger
lie dormant? Corroding
the scabbard of forgiveness
to reveal within
retribution's hot dagger.
I speak of this, a blade
between my teeth.

1129. 6 March 2007 - 7:14pm
There is always a moment
in the day that belongs
to you alone. It is pure crystal
unblemished by facets
of memories. It is itself
unique & always like others.

1130. 7 March 2007 - 7:00am
A poet waits at the jetty
for the ferry. He looks like
any other man who is
both astonished & amused.
A man asks him the time.
He replies - the river is wide.

1131. 8 March 2007 - 7:08am
Our dawn patrol of fortress Plumstead
jogs only a sleeping shepherd
who guards a deserted
garden barren & exhausted.
Memories of childhood here,
dog my steps.

1132. 9 March 2007 - 7:04am
A line of poetry,
every syllable jewelled
as if all of history turns
on its words, comes to me
as I walk on an edge of ocean.
Then a gull swoops
& steals it.

1133. 10 March 2007 - 7:00am
A sinister half world awakes
while I dream with dexterity
of demons fought by angels
in cold blood & darkness.
I rise in this twilight,
peer at the day & smile.

1134. 11 March 2007 - 8:37am
There are eyes so blue
a man could drown in a tear.
Or turn to weeping of his time.
Or look for planets in her orbit
and lesser bodies of the night.
And a kiss.

1135. 11 March 2007 - 7:46pm
Would you weep in the theatre
of tears? See the barefoot
metaphor dance in the light.
Oh, how gods & ghosts
call me from this dream,
how shadows clap & sing.

1136. 12 March 2007 - 7:00am
"too many are the children
of my longing", says the prophet.
The city is quiet.
No birds yet sing.
Across the rooftops, between the pines,
the Imam calls me.

1137. 13 March 2007 - 7:13am
The ship settles to the ocean rhythm,
lifts & falls. The breeze,
from the starboard quarter,
carries dusty scents of the departing
continent & three grey gulls.

1138. 14 March 2007 - 7:04am
I know a pixie who never ages
though 60 years have come.
Of fine nosed vintage,
rich-cherried body
in hues of violin,
she is a muse of melody
& lyric. O Lynne!

1139. 14 March 2007 - 3:46pm
I heard a whisper on the phone,
that undressed me right to the bone.
And what she implied,
as I tried to hide,
revealed that the bird had not flown.

1140. 14 March 2007 - 6:08pm
A bruised & bowed sea sullenly
butts the cliff at Swartklip,
still under the lash of a southerly.
Lifted by airs that rise
up the face, that dark kelp odour.

1141. 15 March 2007 - 7:03am
Four candles gutter in a garden
below a thousand nights.
The silent mountain stands apart
as if aloof while the city beneath
hoots & raves in trafficked lusts.

1142. 16 March 2007 - 6:50am
A poet turns her dark eyes
on the crowd lighting each moonface
under poisoned stars. She smiles
as a chill breeze shakes
adolescent leaves & the mike screams.

1143. 17 March 2007 - 7:14am
The bishop & the king,
chat in diagonal dialogue,
as if at a contest,
joust, among knights
of stature & satcheled pawns,
about accounts & journals & schools.

1144. 18 March 2007 - 9:33am
The match continues,
the sun shines,
burns the fog away.
I see you there
with your baseball cap
looking a million bucks
like any star
by this game.

1145. 19 March 2007 - 7:10am
So the years pass, each seven.
Today, a seventh veil falls.
See the bride of life
smile to herself & her sons.
She reflects her inner eye,
as a poet, at dawn.

1146. 20 March 2007 - 6:55am
Each line of poetry is tied
to its own star by a fine thread
only poets can see (& lovers). I know this
because when I tweak that thread,
my star twinkles.

1147. 21 March 2007 - 7:32am
Every day is holy, says a prophet
who has seen all the weather.
In his life, the sun has not yet moved
a second of arc in its orbit
about the hub of our galaxy.

1148. 21 March 2007 - 1:26pm
There is a rib of escarpment
that stabs the matted skein
of veld that surrounds
the disintegrating carcase of the dorp
like the shadow of a bald vulture's wing.

1149. 22 March 2007 - 6:42am
Three ibis stitch primeval screams
across the fabric of dawn.
Beneath, a city held:
steel & cement bowels, constipated,
weighted arteries thickening,

1150. 23 March 2007 - 6:40am
We were few in those days.
The fish were many & the nets
full. We loved in abundance.
Now I no longer understand
love. It has become what I do.
Not who I am.

1151. 24 March 2007 - 6:52am
Rain has fallen on the tombs
of the fathers who sleep
& dream of meadow  & orchard.
Or does he burn still
in smouldering war draped
in iron & bayoneted flags?

1152. 24 March 2007 - 2:59pm
His pencil poised, an empty page
clean & smooth as her belly,
the poet pauses to collect his thoughts
disrupted by metaphors that crowd
his groin so urgently.

1153. 25 March 2007 - 6:56am
From that window I watched
the bay's mood swing with buoys
about the ebb & flow of boyhood.
Saw my heart dip & rise
in deep-long swell:
ache for grey horizons.

1154. 25 March 2007 - 8:06am
So colours rise to the bosun's pipe,
each reflecting in the basin's tide
as I remember my ensign's
honour that lost its meaning
in the blood of old prejudice.

1155. 25 March 2007 - 2:19pm
At lunch, my mother mentions
Dick Cawood who she loved
before my father. Who was taken
at Tobruk & waited 4 years
in Germany & returned but
the bird had flown.

1156. 25 March 2007 - 3:54pm
The poet's eyes smoke
with consumed fire, her lips
pink as a kitten's tongue.
Were I wiser I would have come
later. But then again,
I would not have known this.

1157. 25 March 2007 - 6:08pm
Here the tuna lie gutted
on the quay, for all the world
still swimming in this thin air.
As if a family pod lost high & dry:
aliens under alien skies, staring.

1158. 26 March 2007 - 6:54
Opposite, at lunch, three women feed,
fat, not yet obese, heavy breasted,
jowled, small mouthed, hardly speak,
concentrate on their ribs,
look furtively about.

1159. 26 March 2007 - 6:30pm
Rain sparks & smokes
on deserted plains of imagination
at the end of seven years drought.
So I turn to the poet,
who is watching the sky,
for interpretation.

1160. 27 March 2007 - 7:19am
Next door feeds the dog,
pushing a bowl of pellets
forward: commands "Sit!".
The dog knows better
than to wag its tail.
I sigh, as deep as the bayed centuries.

1161. 28 March 2007 - 7:01am
Electric blue dawn welds
night & day to my wakening.
The traffic of dreams gives way
to news & noise. I would scream
would it not attract priest
& poet & coach.

1162. 29 March 2007 - 7:01am
The unknown peak I climb
in nowhere land - some think
me lost - I climb reflecting
the world, the path along,
the view that is a metaphor
for this life of mine.

1163. 30 March 2007 - 7:22am
There was a young man from Kalk Bay
who seldom had nothing to say.
It wasn't his tongue,
or anything long,
but his love for Jenny MacCrae.

1164. 30 March 2007 - 8:16am
A tar whips the sheet
with a sailmaker's, remembers
the norwester that ripped
the jib like mutton cloth.
Sets & trims the dog end
with his clasp. Snaps it shut.

1165. 31 March 2007 - 7:05am
Distances in my dream
take no account of time.
Here, I fly the Atlantic,
have dinner for two in Manhattan & return
to Plumstead in 10 seconds flat,

1166. 1 April 2007 - 8:06am
I am possessed by old spirits
that trudge tirelessly in their deep
Northern fog. All is silent
except for pairs of corbies,
the beat of black wings,
stark elms.

1167. 2 April 2007 - 6:15am
The fool's day passed
as any Sunday's usual suspects.
Happy clappers sang undaunted
in the hall. Praise be to God
for a sense of humour
& His practical joke.

1168. 3 April 2007 - 7:24am
This city is inhabited by
geography. Its citizens occupy
contours like fleas the coat
of a sleeping Cape Buffalo.
O Mighty Afrika!
Dust of ancestors & eagles.

1169. 4 April 2007 - 7:00am
The painter sees the moon
in the poet's eye, illuminates
the canvas sea with words
wet with ships. On the bluff
a small crowd watches the armada
in new light.

1170. 4 April 2007 - 10:25am
I am a dull blade, still
whittling these days from an old totem.
What excitement remains?
My muse closes an eye
lest she see too much,
but I hone away & hack.

1171. 4 April 2007 - 12:33pm
How will my slow ways
excite you from a dream
lost in the depths of me?
Do I hear your song long lost
in the hills among old caves
where the spirits still muse?

1172. 4 April 2007 - 2:11pm
So, you see youth in my eye,
memories & legends too,
when I looked upon the world
as an oyster held
on the tongue & swallowed
cunningly. Now, I keep pearls.

1173. 5 April 2007 - 7:10am
The story leads to betrayal
in the garden by the waterfall.
All fated as spring rain,
drenches the scaffold,
the ghost leaves, understanding
nothing at all.

1174. 5 April 2007 - 4:17pm
I am as full of blood as a tick
on a spaniel's ear. A tiny nick
has me leak rust & drip.
And why always my good thumb
that is dressed now as a punkawallah.

1175. 6 April 2007 - 7:12am
This morning's peppertree air,
curving green liquid light,
three Imams,
three green towers,
calling faithfully.
Then running feet &
three shots
punctuate grace.

1176. 6 April 2007 - 6:12pm
Let us speak of old words,
old meanings unthawed
in the cleft of palate
& cold memory.
So, I feel bloody yore,
that gore caught on lizardfang
when I was egg.

1177. 7 April 2007 - 7:20am
An age obsession with twilight,
time of voyage,
time of seas,
time of airs,
turning returning,
clocks & bells,
moons & months,
tides & shores,
always counting.

1178. 8 April 2007 - 7:37am
These forgotten streets
gutter this city
drain my resolve
to take root here.
And I hear an old Zulu,
as wise as the Kalahari,
deep as his bones,
call me home.

1179. 8 April 2007 - 11:15am
Already, rusting leaves from the plane
strew the path like filigree slippers
left by the ugly sisters.
Taverner's Lamentations & Praises
play on Easter radio.

1180. 9 April 2007 - 7:11am
These boots of depression
know a world well.
Worn in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake
& in avenues of lust.
Carrion crow picks
at night's roadkill.

1181. 10 April 2007 - 6:48am
The road unravels, tells its tale
of journey & direction.
We pass caravan & haulage,
chat of destination & terminal.
The mountains look down
unmoved & silent.

1182. 10 April 2007 - 2:22pm
The geography of this sky
is an archipelago of clouds.
It floats over the island koppies
of the Karoo where lost sheep
ply dry courses in search
of a shepherd.

1183. 10 April 2007 - 2:35pm
Mother Earth lies here naked
with her Karoo daughters
in the sun. We pass remarks
informed by geological
fault & fissure. But her forms
are unmoved in the heat.

1184. 11 April 2007 - 6:51am
The earth is bloody red here,
hard as diamonds
under the pepper trees
where I sit waiting.
But I am not alone.
Giant ants forage,
new birds sing,
cicadas alarm.

1185. 11 April 2007 - 1:39pm
The land is mute here
and deaf. It cannot obtain
purchase in any sense
that matters in matters
of the hearts of men.
These properties ignore
deed & signature.

1186. 12 April 2007 - 6:41am
A poet speaks of silences
in a voice engraved with names,
spirits of ancestors within him-
self: a golden mongoose,
a lioness, his artist mother,
his two sons.

1187. 12 April 2007 - 6:50am
I hold you this morning,
embrace the still airs,
breathe you, taste your warmth
rising in the east,
feel the fabric
of your body,  satinsoft
in the folds of me.

1188. 12 April 2007 - 7:06am
The craft comes slowly
with the centuries
that turn on the axle of time,
wheel across the night
to light & revelation,
so moving me in a mind's eye,
to prayer.

1189. 12 April 2007 - 10:48am
A place of prayer
holds in its peace,
bloodied banners of battlefield.
Below soaring arches
a single martin jinks
& skyboy's fingers dance
across a grand song.

1190. 12 April 2007 -  3:07pm
Our simple picnic -
its ageless ritual
of a meal shared
by the river. Here,
as innocent as maidens, we eat
by the snaking river
engraved in stone
on our hearts.

1191. 12 April 2007 - 3:25pm
These pavements hide
a sleeping city of spirits.
The boulevard pocked
with alien marks
familiar yet otherworld
as if a tick-tock
clock of generations
wakens me.

1192. 13 April 2007 - 6:35am
The poet finds each word
hidden in the earth,
covered in dust & debris:
bones of our ancestors.
She takes it to the river god.
Washes it, puts it in her mouth.

1193. 13 April 2007 - 9:59am
There are miracles here
in the hollow earth
that speak in soundless
song. Pebbles in the stream
gather to converse.
Gems the Water Snake guards
in sibilants.

1194. 13 April 2007 - 6:45am
We are children, you & I,
in this apprenticeship.
I try this & that,
this tool, that, to build
the fluency of life.
It is a long learning.
But I am not weary.

1195. 14 April 2007 - 6:53am
A man silent now here
at Wonderwerk sits
on a great stone. Looks
over the plain with eyes
a million years sighted.
Sips honeyed tea,
watches a springhaas graze.

1196. 14 April 2007 - 7:03am
The highway is distant.
Cars speed past,
look neither left nor right.
The spirits cannot move
driven men, soon gone.
The road here is the old slow way.

1197. 14 April 2007 - 10:19pm
The last light burns,
flickers, smokes to a stub.
We turn to sound, sing
in old voices that illuminate
the cave, deep in its introspection.
Echo our reflection.

1198. 15 April 2007 - 6:52am
The stones here, by their touch,
touch the heart & mind of the age
of silicon. Connect our times
with stone tools that record
the intimacy of our simple digits.

1199. 15 April 2007 - 7:00am
I am impatient.
Ache to see your eyes,
your face, the line of you,
those curves that race my heart.
Your touch, your taste,
the smell of you,
your laughter.
1200. 15 April 2007 - 12:21pm
These hills of ironstone
ring on the anvil of history.
I climb in their embrace
into the heights of memory
where three cranes wheel
& drift on endless horizons.

1201. 15 April 2007 - 5:25pm
The kliphard face of Kathu,
iron-fisted red-earthed,
where I stoop & stop,
pick & choose blade, axe
or chisel - each jewel
glistening in the superficial world.

1202. 16 April 2007 - 9:06am
The road to Kenhardt is straight
as a Roman. But here no Centurion
led his sandaled cohort.
Here the way is stony,
the green brown as camel,
the sun merciless.

1203. 16 April 2007 - 10:26am
Kokerboomwoud requires no woodman
nor axe. Each tree lonely
as a turnip in the arid garden
of its thirst. There I see
a windmill also lost in the dust
& light.

1204. 17 April 2007 - 6:16am
Here is neither darkness
nor light: the city is shadow.
In the cave I saw nothing
until my eyes opened
in the dark, then revelation.
And the sound of my heart.

1205. 18 April 2007 - 7:01am
He wages war in the night,
nukes America, takes out
Superman up-up-and-away.
Reads the Prophet at dawn
with a clear conscience.
Washes supper's dishes quietly.

1206. 19 April 2007 - 6:25am
His sinister hemisphere
is already in command.
Draws lines of structure,
decision tables & instructions.
Brooks no ambidextrous lines
of poetry or other senses.

1207. 20 April 2007 - 6:41am
We are masters of stone,
have been for a million years.
Look around this age
of plastic at the stones.
Are we not builders, masons,
jewellers? Now silicon time.

1208. 21 April 2007 - 7:12am
From the point of view
of beggar or
corporate executive,
whose life does he most value?
His own? Or the other's?
So it is I measure not,
nor count stars or sea.

1209. 21 April 2007 - 7:39am
I am journeyman
not master of this craft,
much remaining before the day's end.
Each word steps before me,
questions meaning & metaphor:
as if leaves dancing.

1210. 22 April 2007 - 8:12am
The morning forest releases
reluctant night from its limbs.
Walking here, the choir in the eaves,
my gods' benevolent smiles
in my knapsack,
I hear distances.

1211. 22 April 2007 - 9:53pm
I hear you & the crickets count
the stars. Night hangs on every
word, turns dream to machine.
Often, when I touch the light,
a tear falls from the cheek of God.

1212. 23 April 2007 - 6:54am
Foresight lives in the mind
promising reality if only.
I find deals with myself
always disappoint either Jekyll
or Hyde. Both are bad
losers, always bickering.

1213. 24 April 2007 - 6:44am
She lifts her chin to meet his
eye, matching deed to deed
in the defrocked night.
They speak in gesture & primitives
to hold mind at bay:
fingers touch first.

1214. 25 April 2007 - 7:17am
The vine is russet in its age,
the sap gone, gnarled, worn.
It lives on, waits another season
when the time is ripe,
for the sun. An old soldier,
long campaign.

1215. 26 April 2007 - 6:34am
In the quadrangle of my learning
starlings debate meaning & probabilities.
And the nourishing of young souls
who have yet to go to war.
And the forbidden tower.

1216. 26 April 2007 - 8:20am
He starves at the bountiful
table, distracted by scraps
of conversation he hears
from the steward under his
breath. Meantime, above the salt,
war is planned.

1217. 26 April 2007 - 8:48am
Mona Lisa had wind
so couldn't complete
the expression, over which
we puzzle politely
still. Leonard smelled
a rat, painted what we see.
It led to experiments.

1218. 27 April 2007 - 7:38am
There are no frogs here. None
singing in the rain, no tadpole
puddling. This deserted suburb,
its caged dogs & men,
sleeps, dreams wetly,
feels itself dying.

1219. 28 April 2007 - 7:53am
I always liked the wicked
witch: lips pricked red,
eyes intent & the robe swept
aside. She dances for Argentina,
sweeps the floor like Madonna,
grinning evil.

1220. 28 April 2007 - 10:07am
The poem is lost
in a government department.
I see her join a queue
of metaphors applying
to a time zone, but she cannot
identify herself, though

1221. 29 April 2007 - 8:10am
The poet chooses her words
from the treasury of meaning
hidden in the deepest cavern
of the old mountain where
a spring of icy water
washes these uncut stones.

1222. 29 April 2007 - 2:38pm
I see the city in its ruin,
hobbled to the south wall
by the portcullis of custom.
There, a millstream & weir
hold back thoughts, desires,
the last kneading.

1223. 29 April 2007 - 10:09pm
Their's is the language of before
times, when ice cliffs guarded
the north. I remember old men
who had lost fingers to the wind,
shiver still & curse wolves.

1224. 30 April 2007 - 7:45am
A poet writes a letter
to her id in the language
of the womb in its use
& abuse. I find the poem (it is
a poem) in a bottom drawer,
with other soiled intimacies.

1225. 1 May 2007 - 7:48am
Dirt of T-rex, mice & men,
great trees, grasses of the plain,
of tears, wars, flood, fire,
plague & pestilence. Yes,
all this grounded in earth
under my nails.

1226. 1 May 2007 - 11:05am
The sea in this tranquil harbour
basin reflects a position
in time's longitude at breakfast.
We lean forward over the lips
of cappuccino, as the tide inhales.

1227. 2 May 2007 - 6:51am
Always the sea to remind me.
Its constancy, its depth,
ever varied face, fearful
embrace, resting place.
The gulls suspended,
shrill as fishwives
gutting snoek.

1228. 2 May 2007 - 6:41pm
I imagine you in the garden
of this thirst, drinking whisky
with no conscience, on the rocks.
Through the trees a great moon
nudges aside autumn leaves
& night.

1229. 3 May 2007 - 5:59am
I watch a man sketch
a nude, trace each curve
with a practised eye.
Lift the pencil as his mind
completes a detail of memory.
Exhales, releases it with a smile.

1230. 3 May 2007 - 6:47pm
The well below the valley
sings a sweet song as any
I ever heard. So deep it is
the sky is always night,
the stars forever blaze
in their vast astonishment.

1231. 3 May 2007 - 9:33pm
A man who writes novels
remarks he hears I am a poet
asks what I do for a living
I want to be witty & tell him
I am already dead that it is
all his imagination.

1232. 4 May 2007 - 6:39am
Two children lurch about a house
on stilts as if pencils in the hands
of giant poets vexed by metaphor & rhyme.
Neither poet admits to reason,
preferring noise.

1233. 4 May 2007 - 9:19pm
Me & Chopin waiting
for you already nocturnal.
Each note inevitable, sin
in silence, dream of time
(its instrument), death, but no
cigar while the song smokes.

1234. 4 May 2007 - 10:11pm
There is a gate somewhere
along this wall. Am I kept
out or in? It's impossible
to see. I tap the wall,
here & there - solid, no resonance.
I must learn to fly.

1235. 5 May 2007 - 6:26am
The totem is in the tent,
guards hideous dreams
that would escape.
I hear them mutter,
the odd scream of prisoners.
Convictions of injustice,
the rape of men.

1236. 5 May 2007 - 10:04am
No, there were only three moons
present. The volcanic one is Io,
which is apt, as the most prominent
&, heavens, I believe it is Olympus
to the last dead Gods.

1237. 6 May 2007 - 6:27am
This path is worn by many feet.
It is long. I know it well.
Change is slow, like a mountain,
it waits for time to catch up.
Sometimes I see others
here and you.

1238. 6 May 2007 - 6:20pm
Each message's half life
dates me in my whole.
Whether it comes or goes,
I always hear the music
of your voice doppler in this
traffic: sounds of meaning pass.

1239. 7 May 2007 - 7:03am
A mixed metaphor, half
truth, incomplete simile:
these are pews of a new temple
where the converted sing
& clap. Where I bristle.
No Light, lost perspectives.

1240. 8 May 2007 - 6:29am
This morning a chill breeze
from the north, full of blame,
wakens a wretched suburb.
We are silent in our dialogue,
shuttered to all climates,
waiting summer.

1241. 8 May 2007 - 11:41am
I hear a wolf call through the trees.
It cannot be: there are none
here. Perhaps it is an echo
fallen back from a distant age
to where I sit wondering
in time.

1242. 8 May 2007 - 6:26pm
There is a glimmer in the sand,
a seeping, a welling up from deep
of some ancient fire's embers,
long-forgotten but glowing
as we sleep upon its mantle hearth.

1243. 8 May 2007 - 8:42pm
Her hands articulate words
that irrigate the conversation
with floods and storms.
I listen under a cloudy disposition
finding meaning in undertones
& laughter.

1244. 9 May 2007 - 7:42am
The night kept me from rest
with its collywobble stories
that lack both air & grace,
until the morning flung aside
all pretence of sleep
& demanded me erect.

1245. 9 May 2007 - 3:19pm
Light gathers to a point
in the prism of her eyes,
ultraviolet, deep spaced,
radiating singular energy
as dark as the lost mass,
universal grimace & terror.

1246. 10 May 2007 - 6:24am
Yesterday's rhyme has given way
to inclement weather. A gloom
settled on Thursday's child
always ready to set out one step
after. The other follows reluctantly.

1247. 11 May 2007 - 6:59am
Let me count the ways:
no, there is no telling
in this accountancy, in this
accumulation of time's wealth.
It is always more & less
than some other longing.

1248. 11 May 2007 - 11:03pm
A goddess sits in repose,
a quizzical expression cast
in her face as if surprised
by her own long-anticipated demise.
Here, she is lost as any priest
& laity.

1249. 12 May 2007 - 7:34am
Appetites of my id grasp me
at the core of misunderstanding.
How more convenient to hunger
for food only: let my soul
seek nourishment in temples
& bordellos.

1250. 12 May 2007 - 8:02am
The sea moves in its chemistry,
surging in tide & time
at an edge of the continent
where I live, like a mussel,
holding on to a shore,
seeking a piece of self.

1251. 12 May 2007 - 8:27pm
The jetty reaches into the heart
of the bay, but the sea
has long undermined each pile, blowing,
sucking, rasping, sending armies of snail
to take its own back.

1252. 13 May 2007 - 8:14am
The mountain pass last night
reduced to essences
of sibilant bends uncoiling
in conversation of art
that illuminates imagination
& a dark tapestry leading home.

1253. 13 May 2007 - 12:04pm
A lion looks over a city
of men, sees nothing palatable,
so turns to stone.
A man sits on the headland
imagines lions seeing nothing to eat.
Writes a poem.

1254. 13 May 2007 - 12:14pm
Two women pass a poet
looking for a lost ego
on a mountain path. They have
an aroma of nocturnal
promise. The poet stumbles,
stubs his memories,
turns inwardly.

1255. 14 May 2007 - 6:42am
Goodbye Ruby Tuesday: echoes
of a baby booming youth
along youthful roads, everlasting
tang of the fraudulent
bay. The harbour, Star of the Sea,
enmeshed in me.

1256. 15 May 2007 - 6:34am
An old monk, deep in his cowl,
lifts pen from manuscript.
Reflects on birds of prey:
how the hawk balances on unseen
air & view. Closes his eyes,
as in prayer.

1257. 15 May 2007 = 9:46pm
Lines from a song buffet
electric blue coastlines
in quavers & staves
dipping & diving into
appetite & thirst: musicmen
looking for chords,
riffing surfergirls.

1258. 16 May 2007 - 6:36am
The old monk in his cell
contemplates shadows.
How life interrupts the light,
draws eyes to itself.
Would not perfect darkness
bring reflection & revelation?

1259. 17 May 2007 - 6:13am
The old monk sips tea.
He has already prayed this
morning, but his conversation
with God continues. Often
silence interrupts the dialogue:
he waits patiently.

1260. 18 May 2007 - 7:22am
The old monk leans on his rake,
shakes his head this morning.
The snails have come back
to the lettuce. Pray to God
of all creation. He nods,
bends to his task.

1261. 18 May 2007 - 2:14pm
Erik the Viking sits on a boulder
overlooking the bay.
He contemplates his next raid.
This coastline is now fully roused
though: perhaps pillage further south?

1262. 19 May 2007 - 6:53am
The old monk sits under the cloisters
watching the rain.
He never tires of it.
Its peace is his.
It possesses him as God does.
It will fall on his tomb later.

1263. 20 May 2007 - 7:16am
Erik goes to Sunday school
to learn about God,
to save us from our sins,
ourselves. But a Viking
is disruptive (or not a Viking)
so Miss Vickerstaff is vexed.

1264. 20 May 2007 - 9:28am
she would never say where
she came from rolling stone
gathering soixante neuf
lucky number lance sex over
midwicket don't forget to run
jennifers rabbit smoking

1265. 21 May 2007 - 11:30am
Morning silence broken
by elevenses warming this
conversation. The bay stirred
by the rain, foams at the gills.
Some gulls strung along the shore,
others fly.

1266. 21 May 2007 - 7:52pm
Blitzkrieg winter refuses
my white flag, pocks every
surface, seeks crevice & cranny
like a virus. Or is it a cleansing balm,
unpolluted by seasons of drought?

1267. 22 May 2007 - 6:50am
There is a dog in me
that knows every whiff.
A dog of long descent:
has endured the chase,
the pack all round.
The dog who hears the boxer
confined next door.

1268. 23 May 2007 - 6:38am
Distance hangs in the air
longingly as ranged peaks
in white winter of an age.
Two pied crows flaps down glide
to carrion, strut like sentries,
rifle & bayonet.

1269. 23 May 2007 - 10:16pm
An old man, versed in the ways
of heresy, prays to his enemy's
God. He has read the holy books,
the incantations of unbelievers:
their persecutions & pontiffs.

1270. 24 May 2007 - 6:40am
A poet stands in the queue
at the bank, watches TV.
He wishes the program showed
wild life not washing powder:
how he could dazzle other poets
if he remembers.

1271. 25 May 2007 - 7:01am
A pen poised to sign
his release: the world cares not
nor knows his mood.
Beyond he sees the shore
of the great continent,
vast as Africa,
and its seas & sands.

1272. 26 May 2007 - 6:20am
I shrink into my age ill-fitted
to it as a loose condom.
Hell, the idea's a good one
& there's plenty of scope
for this man of the sixties
to stuff it up again.

1273. 27 May 2007 - 7:38am
In the end I could not rest.
Was it a contract with a minor
devil? Or, as I looked in the mirror
lipped with shaving cream,
the razor at my neck,
with that God?

1274. 27 May 2007 – 11:57am
A kiewiet pinks among the strawberries.
A blue crane rises from the vlei,
flies over me silently. From a cottage
angry voices dispute the quietus
of this farm.

1275. 28 May 2007 - 6:38am
My friend Richard's a cat lover.
Yesterday, at lunch, he was retiring,
but could not find a nice warm lap
to sleep on. Instead he daydreamed
of lion & bushveld.

1276. 29 May 2007 - 6:52am
Richard had a quiet night
again. He's been reading
poetry, which always lifts
spirits & titillates his dreams.
Though yesterday, he said limply,
he felt so old.

1277. 30 May 2007 - 6:37am
Richard is an upright fellow
I know well. Religious too: I've seen him
pious as the Pope at prayer.
But there's a little bit
of devil in him: lusts & appetites.

1278. 31 May 2007 - 7:25am
Richard loves catshows,
hates snakeparks.
He just shakes his head
outside the anaconda bowl,
but perks up later
when we watch rare cats
on the blue planet DVD.

1279. 31 May 2007 - 7:27am
Richard falls asleep in company,
which I find quite embarrassing.
It's not that he snores
(he really is a quiet fellow).
But he does need taking in hand,

1280. 31 May 2007 - 1:45pm
Richard is not a poet
though he has sympathy
for their many shortcomings.
This he understands all too well.
Why the other day
he felt  a premature rhyme coming.

1281. 1 June 2007 - 8:04am
Richard feels uptight today.
Yesterday he was full of nonsense
making indelicate remarks.
He gets these strange urges:
perhaps tidal or lunar?
Never wilts.

1282. 1 June 2007 - 12:03pm
It comes unexpectedly,
the 80th year, as if a long
awaited companion suddenly
knocks at the door. The old man
dozes by the fire, sighs,
smiles, opens the door.

1283. 2 June 2007 - 7:33am
Richard is not feeling himself
this morning, he says.
Very likely wine at dinner:
so he will not be rewarded by sympathy.
He needs pull himself toward himself.

1284. 3 June 2007 - 8:11am
Richard again tries life
to the full in the form
of fruit of the vine
suitably cellared.
He is now ungracefully
sucking hot sweet tea
over his hirsute tongue.

1285. 3 June 2007 - 9:46am
Each crystal night's moment
ticks in the instrument
of its light. How I consume
gravity of thought
that falls to its measure
in the last pure glaze,

1286. 4 June 2007 - 6:59am
This geometry of longing
in temples of the faith,
how it draws lines of reasoning
from candlelight & prayer.
How does a novice know
of gates & the silent years?

1287. 4 June 2007 - 7:06am
Richard joins the queue
at the urinal hoping to be
unnoticed among stallions
& bucking broncos & angel
falls & the handsome men
who go to any length to please.

1288. 4 June 2007 - 7:73pm
Rain falls from the riven night
like cavalry, sabres drawn,
galloping down a dark hill.
I stand transfixed, a foot soldier,
imagining the cold steel

1289. 5 June 2007 - 8:22am
Richard's alter ego is secret.
I heard vague talk of another
life that came to naught.
He's seldom uptight these days,
never noses about unless invited in.

1290. 5 June 2007 - 6:43pm
Richard sometimes aches all over
when stressed by affairs of the heart.
He never complains though,
even when left out in the cold
while the cat warms herself.

1291. 6 June 2007 - 6:47am
The old monk finds wisdom
in the child. Long years
of penitence lie behind.
He sees the light as a boy:
it is bright, eternal, no longer
needs prayer or faith.

1292. 7 June 2007 - 6:57am
Richard loves balls: the music,
fiddlers, horn-players, the sax.
Normally retiring, he rises to dance:
loves a jig, swoons to waltz,
puffs up to a saucy tango.

1293. 7 June 2007 - 7:10pm
The old monk sees the boy
in a man's face: clarity
of innocence in his smile.
And the weariness of the world
in a young girl who comforts
her mother's tears.

1294. June 2007 - 7:30pm
Richard never forgets a face.
Why only yesterday he looked
in the mirror, liked what he saw,
& made a mental note to stay in touch.
Later, he forgot who he is.

1295. 8 June 2007 - 7:07am
Richard closes one eye
when he takes aim at cats.
I don't understand why
he gets so puffed up
with the feline. Perhaps some
boyish experience rattles his cage?

1296. 9 June 2007 - 9:01am
Richard's never full of himself,
even when hamming it up
Friday nights down the pub.
Not that he's into public
performance as a rule.
Nor the group thing, well.

1297. 10 June 2007 - 7:07am
Richard tries hard to catch up
if he gets behind.
He's a typical little man
endowed with the usual character:
pushy, assertive & persistent.
But cats love him.

1298. 10 June 2007 - 8:55am
The old monk stands at the gate,
looks out over the hills
kneeling under an autumn sunset.
How this timeless scene
is the ever changing constant
in his prayers.

1299. 11 June 2007 - 7:33am
Richard battles to keep his head
down in a cat fight. Some instinct
keeps him from harm
& he withdraws regularly
to a safe distance.
Then returns to the fray?

1300. 12 June 2007 - 6:56am
The love of God is the dark matter
of the universe. It is unseen,
persistent, pervasive, immeasurable.
The old monk notes this
in his diary: to give thanks.

1301. 13 June 2007 - 8:02am
The rain stops, deep in thought.
The earth is sodden as a drunk.
I wonder about a rhyme
& wander in hills
& valleys of my dream
where the flowers are
& caves.

1302. 13 June 2007 - 11pm
I hear your voice in my inner ear,
a tympany of long remembered
beats & the moon that bisected
our eyes in valleys of conceit
where I howled stranded & cold.

1303. 14 June 2007 - 8:02am
The old monk draws water at the well:
tastes its holiness, earthblood.
He lowers the bucket again,
listens as it kisses the surface
like a memory of boyhood.

1304. 14 June 2007 - 9:53am
When Richard dips into the well,
he loves to see his reflection
distort. It's quite childish
really for a fully grown man,
albeit a little fellow. Whacko...

1305. 15 June 2007 - 7:40am
Each page turns to parchment
in its age. Ash to ashes:
the words failing from tongues.
Charged particles, electric fenced,
keyboards, structures, safe deposits.

1306. 16 June 2007 - 8:05am
The poet speaks of journey,
distance & the meaning of coins.
He knows nothing of these,
merely repeats mantras
as geese migrate north to breed
or are eaten.

1307. 17 June 2007 - 7:33am
Yesterday Richard nearly embarrassed
himself. First, he began to flutter
a young bird & later tried
to introduce himself to a famous cat.
He'll need collaring.

1308. 17 June 2007 - 7:47am
The matins bell is to his spirit
as martins are to the cloisters.
Both take an unwavering candle
to the chapel of his memories
where his soul speaks to God.

1309. 18 June 2007 - 7:17am
Richard needs to relax.
Yesterday he was stiff as
a sentry before the appointment.
I assured him he'd be welcome
but he stood unsure of both
medium and massage.

1310. 18  June 2007 - 7:28am
The old monk reflects
on seclusion. How he finds
holiness in emptiness, in absence
& silence. Here, a single candle
lights the known & unknown:
instant & aeon.

1311. 19 June 2007 - 7:28am
Where has the light gone?
Quickly to the night where
hours are aeons & silences:
my breath on the frosty pane.
There, the cat lifts one foot

1312. 19 June 2007 - 12:36pm
The old monk searches his memory
for the smell of the oasis.
How it came through the dust
like an edge on the breath
as the great desert exhales
infants & milk.

1313. 19 June 2007 - 6:14pm
Richard plans to stand
for election. I have told him
he'll need to grease palms,
but he just smiles knowingly.
As if he had long been into
politics & pricks!

1314. 20 June 2007 - 6:47am
Richard's manifesto, though widely
read, has been rejected by the politburo as unsuitable
for publication. However, internally,
it will become regular practice.

1315. 20 June 2007 - 5:33pm
The old monk sleeps less
these days: contemplates
the nature of time & distances.
Finds rhythm in the seasons:
the long migrations of small birds,
their faith.

1316. 20 June 2007 - 5:43pm
The old monk & a poet drink tea,
discuss meaning between
words & silences: gaze
at distant hills in one mind.
Nearby, a goat crops the verge
then defecates.

1317. 20 June 2007 - 5:50pm
The old monk prefers soup
& coarse bread baked
in the abbot's kitchen.
The sprinkle of aniseed
reminds him of school days
& the liquorice he stole
from Ali's.

1318. 20 June 2007 - 6:24pm
Africa seeps into this town
like thunder: so the rains come.
Who would know music in the teeth
of the great doctor sweeping
all before her in the last weeping.

1319. 20 June 2007 - 6:46pm
Were I a poet you would know
me by a rhyme that holds
a sail aloft when the gods
of seas breathe across the straits
of departings where a sailor
forgets loving.

1320. 20 June 2007 - 6:53pm
I listen to a poet take my heart,
cut it from my chest. She
holds it there aloft, a trophy.
So, the colour drips beneath
in pools of wishes coined
by gods.

1321. 21 June 2007 - 6:55am
St Lucy's Day it would be
in the other polarity:
lovers' night fantastic.
A poet out walking
her wintered soul
along the diurnal strand,
beachcombs for words.

1322. 22 June 2007 - 8:26am
Richard oversleeps more
often than he sleeps over.
Nuff said: when he eventually
emerged this morning looking
decidedly worn & peeved,
he mumbled "early birds".

1323. 23 June 2007 - 8:05am
A poet looks at the painter,
sees the unspoken, hears
the colours of her silence.
Below them a labyrinth
of dreams. Screams
from catacombs of denial.
Old caves.

1324. 24 June 2007 - 8:24am
A poet leaves the cave
in search of reason. Few see him
go, fewer will see him return.
He is a traveller, knows his mind
wanders always to distances
or tears.

1325. 25 June 2007 - 9:03am
Richard complained this morning
about me lounging around
while he does all the work.
He fails to understand the spiritual
foundations of my kind
of yoga & time.

1326. 26 June 2007 - 7:17am
The poet knows secrets
of the cave, paints walls
with mysteries of fire,
light & the antiquity of souls.
Or speaks in rhyme & riddle
to confuse remaining gods.

1327. 27 June 2007 - 7:50am
Fractal patterns are dreams
in my chaos. Yesterday I heard
seas, broken waters, mermaids' purses,
in depths of distress, search
flotsam for reefs or harbours.

1328. 28 June 2007 - 7:12am
He does not understand money,
but love & lust he does.
These the old monk remembers
when he prays for his village,
the baker & the daughter,
who chose another.

1329. 28 June 2007 - 7:22am
My clan is gone. The glen
built over where the burn was.
When I go there now nobody knows
our name: not the postman.
Where are we now? Returned
to dreams & sea?

1330. 28 June 2007 - 7:59am
40 years a muse taunted me
before the mast, O Odyssey!
40 year I endured: Iona on the port
hand. To dusk, the long day
waning, the slow moon climbing,
the deep.

1331. 29 June 2007 - 7:42am
Joyce rests now, her passion spent.
Memories sleep with her:
fairies & goblins in wooded dreams
that reach the shore of him.
There, he climbs above Lilliput.

1332. 29 June 2007 - 8:37am
In a secret cave Joyce counts
the days her love has cost.
Lost in dream turned nightmare,
blue deepened black, empty
as a house abandoned to ghosts:
never sold.

1333. 30 June 2007 - 7:10am
Joyce knows the reflexology
of the long road, rhythms,
sweat. Now she rests, shaded
in trees under mountains
where my father's ashes turn
to hearts of stone.

1334. 1 July 2007 - 11:47am
Richard quit mountaineering,
but still loves to roam
among the hills & valleys
of the lower slopes. This morning
everywhere was wet underfoot
in Tokai forest.

1335. 2 July 2007 - 8:27am
The mountain drips as the reef
at low water, the moon set.
Gull & hadeda strut & prise
indelicately at the bounty.
Tonight I will eat rich soup
& crusty bread.

1336. 3 July 2007 - 7:10am
The old monk walks out
into the fields on arising.
Frost flecks the lower meadows,
a mist steams over the pond,
where he stops. A mallard preens
his waistcoat.

1337. 4 July 2007 - 6:46am
A poet watches the sun set
into the western sea
like a metaphor of his age,
ever renewed by the fall
& rise of tides, of fortune:
a comedy of ambition & error.

1338. 5 July 2007 - 9:18am
Have you heard me sing
of hours & desert sand?
What of stony ground,
the smell of water
a poet would describe?
But words are hidden,
chewed & stored in winter.

1339. 6 July 2007 - 7:27am
It is dark, few birds sing
as night retreats to the west.
But the song cuts clear across
the dull silences of Plumstead
to old days that grazed here
in peace.

1340. 6 July 2007 - 10:13am
I hear Ted reading The Thought
Fox in widening astonishment
at the dark colour of his voice,
dark as the dry stone
walls of Mytholmroyd
where rain never stops.

1341. 7 July 2007 - 7:42am
This kite is grounded by a thread
of little substance by the child
who knows all experience,
forgets nothing that will come.
I wonder at him, still playing so.

1342. 8 July 2007 - 7:19am
Each thread a fibre of her body,
she spins her web as before
& as before she waits.
He knows his fate, as before
his father as before, mounts
the high scaffold.

1343. 8 July 2007 - 1:30pm
A poet feels the line
tug in a stream beyond
his horizons. He's never
been there. That place
exists only in a scaffolding
of his unremembering:
a storm petrel.

1344. 8 July 2007 - 1:41pm
A poet flies a kite in an old meadow,
far in a country she last saw
as a girl. The kite's yellow:
surplus issue to that war
still burning under a northern sea.

1345. 9 July 2007 - 7:19am
The old monk watches the artist
at work: the seduction of brush
& palette. How close to God
the painter flies, Pegasus of skies.
His own wings are prayers.

1346. 10 July 2007 - 7:28am
Sometimes a few ill chosen words
mar the whole fabric,
burn a hole the darning
of angels cannot hide.
It is only to ask & receive
forgiveness that mends souls.

1347. 10 July 2007 - 1:48pm
Who would know where a poem ends
when the first line's unsaid?
If you do, give me that terminal
line to the road out:
the first line left
to the right of way.

1348. 11 July 2007 - 7:50am
The old monk's a supplicant:
one voice in a choir
searching for harmony.
Sometimes, though diligent,
his ear betrays his voice.
Then he takes refuge
in silence.

1349. 12 July 2007 - 7:20am
A painter peels a ruby grapefruit,
inhales the bitter sweet memories
of breakfast at the old place.
The oak stands there yet,
gaining girth too, in the season.

1350. 12 July 2007 - 10:16am
What bitterness is this, these
words trapped by language?
That would be free to voyage
among stars & galaxy where
butterflies dream & tongue
new songs of light.

1351. 13 July 2007 - 6:40am
Do you remember that
first sharp intake of breath
when they severed you
forever from your mother's
body? That moment before
you knew what it is to fall,
& live?

1352. 14 July 2007 - 7:52am
A poet walks along the strand
listening to the lines
of surf composing themselves
on the paper-thin shore.
Endless mandalas form
& reform the Atlantic's rhyme.

1353. 14 July 2007 - 1:23pm
A photograph of my mother
at nineteen, fresh, carefree,
though dark days of war
cloud the air: she laughs
for the camera. A snap my father
held heart-close.

1354. 15 July 2007 - 7:49am
Take me to a forest,
take me to a sea,
take me to an edge of time
to live there happily.
Take me to the stars,
take me to the moon,
take me there,
take me soon.

1355. 16 July 2007 - 7:29am
So the years turn & wheel
across memories of song:
yes, I hear the tide sigh
under a pier, there Marion
Dawn measures spring & painter
restless for an old way.

1356. 17 July 2007 - 7:41am
First lines crowd my fingers
as if starving for grains
of truth: scream so I cannot hear
beyond the uproar. I turn
away to seek the silences
of rain at sea.

1357. 18 July 2007 - 6:57am
Thursday's child, calved midsummer,
remembers the west through
mist & rain, raises his glass to
midwinter in a far country,
beloved & loves as mountains & sea.

1358. 19 July 2007 - 8:34am
The tide is out, the sands wet
with winkles & waders.
I exhale the sea breeze
in the lee where an old couple
take the air hand in hand
as they did yesterday.

1359. 20 July 2007 - 7:30am
Joyce in her arbour is silent
and no birds sing.
The gate to the garden
closes under a new moon,
Venus aligns with Saturn
as two tears dry to salt
on my cheek.

1360. 20 July 2007 - 2:27pm
In this deep friendship is
a knowing of the other:
an intimacy of the intangible.
You touch me in whispers.
I hear your voice in my dream:
music & moonlight.

1361. 21 July 2007 - 7:38am
I see her beauty in the dying
light erode to the bedrock
of her character. Her song
is sung: it whispers to the wind.
Her hands knitting
in the shack of memory.

1362. 21 July 2007 - 7:52am
What distance do I need to see
you in the garments of time?
The intimacy of the other
four reduces the sixth
to mists and promises,
and the heartbeat of stones.

1363. 22 July 2007 - 9:21am
Do we bear the weight
of each moment's madness
as we do rain & summer sun?
This morning's is a dialogue
detached, waiting for transportation
to a far colony.

1364. 23 July 2007 - 7:10am
The old monk listens
to the world beyond
these walls, to the spirits
of the living & the dead.
And the war continues:
the stench of their rage
burns his eyes.

1365. 23 July 2007 - 10:35am
These shores touch intimacies
of memory in this peninsula
of dream & the breathing
sea. Here a boy saw his soul
in the offing, the tide flow
into God's gullet.

1366. 24 July 2007 - 7:25am
My heart is in the hill
says the hunter of the dance.
Each day brings songs
of joy & sorrow. If rage comes
I cannot hear music.
Then I seek solitude in self.

1367. 24 July 2007 - 11:51am
At sea nothing rests:
a sleeping hammock measures
angles as any sextant
finding latitude at dusk.
I am god in the machine.
See how the wake bends
to the tiller.

1368. 25 July 2007 - 8:47am
A quaver of Sacred Ibis
fly over homebound traffic
to roost. I listen to Puccini,
ignore the syncopated wipers.
What is poetry to the music
of evening rain?

1369. 26 July 2007 - 6:35am
A muse goes on holiday in July
to avoid her poets, painters
and crotchety musicians.
She heads north!
Spends two happy weeks
in a jam outside Stratford upon.

1370. 26 July 2007 - 6:48am
There were no senses the first day:
everything was nothing.
Then came light
but nobody knew it.
It was not good,
it was not bad.
That's how the first day was.

1371. 26 July 2007 - 7:02am
At the feet of kelp
that wave to another world
like a harpist in a quiet room
overlooking the sea,
a Cape Fur looks at me
through the pane
of my held breath.

1372. 26 July 2007 - 10:46am
I'm my usual cautious self
peeking out of my shell
like a crab making a run for the mermaid
brushing her locks beyond the pool
where kelp slide by like fingers.

1373. 26 July 2007 - 11:06am
A grand Inquisitor prepares himself
for the trial of a poet.
Arms himself with parts of speech,
grammar, semantics &, of course, syntax.
The poet prays to God.

1374. 27 July 2007 - 7:35am
This storm blows a Kelp Gull
to the last knot of cordage
held fast by my eye.
How he skitters, grey & white,
searching for a shore
or cliff to wait the passing.

1375. 27 July 2007 - 9:17am
A Turk's Head or Monkey's Fist
with a core of steel,
a nut or ball from a bearing,
gives a heaving line distance
when the grey ship reaches
for warps & springs.

1376. 28 July 2007 - 8:20am
A jailer patrols the barracks
of his imagination where she lies
imprisoned in walls of lies.
All is overcast even though
the storm has passed
& starlings sing.

1377. 28 July 2007 - 8:39am
The old monk awaits God's messenger.
In this he's a novice.
He sees an angel near,
but she is serving the sick
at heart. He hears wings above:
his spirit soars.

1378. 29 July 2007 - 8:49am
Each word is laid level
by an artisan. I admire his work:
its purpose, its truth
to a blueprint, its ignorance
of folly & soul, its doorway
locked from within.

1379. 29 July 2007 - 12:51pm
A poet lives in a suburb,
the sleeping underbelly
of gangsters held up
in a Sunday School,
takes potshots at dealers
in the opium of the people:
claps happily.

1380. 30 July 2007 - 7:16am
He plots her course in pencil,
marks the chart with a parallel rule,
feels her deck lift under him
as she shows her full stem
to the swollen sea, shakes, falls.

1381. 31 July 2007 - 8:07am
A soldier comes back
to a world at war with himself.
There's blood in his veins,
his heart still pounds.
He speaks:
words swell in his mouth,
he spits poetry.

1382. 1 August 2007 – 6:00am
The master of haiku
tells me a rambling story
of mountains, bicycles & blossoms.
I wait for the end of the line,
counting syllables
as they dance to the conga.

1383. 2 August 2007 - 7:14am
I have a toddler on my hip.
She transports me back
an Odyssey to Kellie
clutching my beard,
poking my nostril,
interested in every damned thing:
delighting me.

1384. 3 August 2007 - 7:18am
Richard is teased.
Wakes bolt upright,
forgets the dream
(Rip never spoke of it),
decides to get up.
Staggers round the house
waiting for a friend to arrive.

1385. 4 August 2007 - 7:32am
The old monk writes a letter
on his brother's birthday.
He recalls their boyhood games,
how they spilled over
into bloodshed.
How he remembers him
in prayer.

1386. 6 August 2007 - 7:43am
This sandcastle I live in
on a beach of dreams
where dawn is dusk
and the perfect break
holds all my promises
among the empty shells,
three kelp gulls scream.

1387. 6 August 2007 - 9:59am
A poet chooses lines of silver
in his tongue of musing,
chases art from interstitial cores
as he searches meaning in design:
as if intention is set in stone.

1388. 7 August 2007 - 7:43am
My words are flooded with sibilant &
fricative like rain in the forest.
I hear but cannot speak: no birds sing.
Wait, is that light through the trees?
Or evil?

1389. 8 August 2007 - 7:10am
A thousand millennia have passed,
the tide comes on. There is peril
in these seas now, the coast heaving
to breathe. I see it too in the eyes
of the children.

1390. 9 August 2007 - 8:17am
A poet speaks of silences,
the old monk listens to the wind.
Words are the currency of poetry,
says the monk, minted by God:
thus seek new coin on the wind.

1391. 9 August 2007 - 6:03pm
This far south the wind howls
as it loses touch: its screams
fall into emptiness, gulls turn back,
the cape clings to the continent,
a Southern Right nurses.

1392. 9 August 2007 - 6:26pm
The sun sets on the quarterdeck,
the ensign falls, the empire forgotten.
Ship, sea, sky, all grey: myself barely
a memory, and the old island spent,

1393. 10 August 2007 - 8:03am
The tortoiseshell sleeps by the fire.
Wind rattles the door, rain whispers
from the dark. Three poets eat lasagne:
meaning, words, my mother tongue,
her poetry.

1394. 10 August 2007 - 10:52pm
The Steinway is gone. The stage bare
bar the upholstered stool & footrest.
The organ silent as a penny whistle
in my pocket. James Grace plays
Johan Sebastian.

1395. 11 August 2007 - 7:25am
History later named this the year
the rain began. It fell 17 years:
maps, charts changed, cities reefs
under the swollen tide. Many died.
Where I stand was ice.

1396. 11 August 2007 - 9:22am
Are those tears or does the old mountain bleed?
Still the rain comes, after forgotten winters.
And retribution, what of it now so near?
A poet turns her cheek.

1397. 12 August 2007 - 8:54am
A new day seeps under the eaves.
Star fields of lilies sweep under
the gaze of the valley. Among them
Sacred Ibis dance slowly in the sun
with ancient steps.

1398. 13 August 2007 - 6:52am
The Cape lies sopnat and tired.
After winter's comes spring's rain,
and, oh God, such fields of flowers
to grace Eden, or pyre for the dead
princess, to heaven.

1399. 14 August 2007 - 6:46am
Rain lingers beyond its welcome,
the long drought rinsed to a fable.
Moles tunnel higher ground. The cat indoors
stretches a long tendon, licks clean
her claws.

1400. 15 August 2007 - 8:00am
Under the glass eye of the waxed moon
I look into the landscape of her face.
She will not remember this: the years
have withdrawn into the last season
as snow.

1401. 16 August 2007 - 7:27am
Each day she rehearses, breathing hard,
the last act. Her eyes are frightened,
she forgets her lines. It doesn't help
to prompt. She calls me Dad,
already dead.

1402. 16 August 2007 - 10:49pm
She would squeeze my hand if she could,
had arthritis not the firmer grip.
Instead, she holds my eyes in hers
as we did years ago, enjoying
the private joke.

1403. 17 August 2007 - 6:28am
It's cold this morning, but there's no frost.
Mossies chatter, a Namaqua dove calls
in peace, the Imam to devotion.
I make bush tea, take the edge
off the nip.

1404. 18 August 2007 - 6:54am
A ghost entered my dream in the church
from the well among the tombs
where my fathers lie as still & cold
as sods. He would take me, but I run
to mother earth.

1405. 19 August 2007 8:19am
I pare the orange from its skin,
unclenched in my hand, distended.
The odour heavy in this morning light.
Above, the overnight from London banks
over the bay.

1406. 20 August 2007 - 8:11am
I hold a shell to my ear: is that the sea?
There is magic here where surf breaks
on reefs old as a moon & full
as the alchemist's dream:
where memories wait.

1407. 21 August 2007 - 7:56am
The old monk falls into temptation
at the abbot's table. Retribution
follows quickly. The vintage, the finest,
has him lean on his stick,
pray to God unbended.

1408. 22 August 2007 - 8:52am
A dog barks at my ankle aware of
my intent should she err.
Her worrying is territorial, a property
I share, but not at sea. There
all walls are like to Jericho.

1409. 23 August 2007 - 6:50am
Will she find light and peace or
will bitterness be her last truth?
I fear the road she takes.
Surely to God, it leads to a gate
where my father cannot wait?

1410. 23 August 2007 - 9:51am
Nasturtium leaves cannot abide rain,
remain dry under the feet of clouds.
Each quicksilver drop drawn into itself
by an inner tension
& the leaf's mustard grin.

1411. 24 August 2007 - 7:10am
We speak of my father, resurrect him
from catacombs of memory.
The thread still leads from darkness.
Bats flutter also needing light
& the air of this morning.

1412. 25 August 2007 - 7:38am
This dialogue with memories
of my father flicker on a pane
of black & white cinema, of strife
long forgotten. Like honour left now
a habit my mother remembers.

1413. 26 August 2007 - 7:53am
Lines of Ulysses litter my remembering:
old age hath yet his honour & his toil...
Always the harbour of joy, beginning,
end, departure, the deep moans round...

1414. 27 August 2007 - 7:00am
What dreams may come beyond the last
star: a red dwarf, a lonely planet
home to pirates & poets. I live there
by the shuffling sands of a great water,

1415. 28 August 2007 -  11:05am
I hear no song this breathless morning.
Night will not ungrip the day,
taking the heart of it in an old fist.
But the light comes and fairies:

1416. 29 August 2007 - 9:55am
What more would you know of the old
ways? Cormorants plunging into the meat
of the shoal: drying out on the rocks,
surrendered to the afternoon sun,

1417. 30 August 2007 - 8:35am
Images of you caught in fading light:
how will I remember you when nothing
remains to be said? Farewell means nothing.
Departure a moment turned on a heel.

1418. 31 August 2007 - 7:35am
The rain will not stop. The sodding earth
gutters to the sea, lifts & falls again:
Gods without mercy would wash me
of sin, but I am etched to the verily meat.

1419. 1 September 2007 - 7:41am
At that place Africa points a crooked
granite & sandstone finger at a sea
of dreams. Hoping for what? A response?
Beneath a face so enraged: the depths of calm.

1420. 2 September 2007 - 7:41am
Duikers fly home to roost etched
against a sullen sea by the brush
of an old calligrapher who catches
them with the rapid strokes of his eye.
I point my camera.

1421. 3 September 2007 - 7:41am
The single note held with endless longing
and lost in the memory of its beginning,
like a tear on the face of antiquity
whose name is the brother of Ozymandias.

1422. 4 September 2007 - 7:36am
The shattered visage, the sneer
of cold command - these words,
stamped in the currency of poets,
remain the coin of history beyond
forgotten knights and kings.

1423. 5 September 2007 - 7:22am
The old monk no longer searches
for meaning. Understanding being
another conceit dilly-dallying with the divine:
or, he wonders, is this ignorance
God Almighty?

1424. 5 September 2007 - 5:50pm
I hear an old song, an old flame
that gutters though the light is gone.
The harbour dreams under a Dog Star,
mermen weep, sit athwart the gunnels
baiting hooks.

1425. 5 September 2007 - 7:59pm
A pencil of light writes a short line
below a sky empty as the page.
No dog barks as the 6 o'clock rumbles
over. What remains when I cover
a star with my thumb?

1426. 6 September 2007 - 7:50am
I am the dockyard crane of yoga.
The girders & gantries of my limbs
do not dissemble into a pacific smile.
I suffer agony of body & soul
with my toe to my ear.

1427. 7 September 2007 - 7:24am
The old monk knows no future,
has forgotten the past. Yesterday
he asked a novice, deep in a new cowl,
the date. The novice was silent:
the old monk smiled.

1428. 8 September 2007 - 6:02am
The old monk goes to a circus
to watch young warriors contest
a bladder. There's no meaning
to the game. The sport is to fight,
but not to the death, it's said.

1429. 9 September 2007 - 7:50am
A group of phonetics tell stories
of the hearth, stirring the soup
of their appetites and the loaves
of ancient history. Two dragons
fly in: gobble everyone.

1430. 10 September 2007 - 6:32am
There is an infant still weeping in me.
Though the man be at the full height
of his age, he remembers only
he has lost his innocence:
hears its echo in tears.

1431. 11 September 2007 - 7:09am
The old monk seeks the truth
in his wisdom. He finds even in lies
is the truth. This paradox returns him
to prayer, to the mind beyond understanding,
to God.

1432. 12 September 2007 - 6:51am
The old monk rejoices in the arbour
of memories, beneath the shade
of an ancient oak where he listens
to the chorus that sings
morningsong life everlasting.

1433. 13 September 2007 - 6:56am
Richard feels a bit of an ass, the blood
rising to his head characteristically.
It's simple enough: let him have his way
and he'll subside into his carapace.

1434. 14 September 2007 - 8:15am
Speak of desert airs in whispers
of a great church where the eye
of God is brightest & the serpent
works great medicine of the mind.
There is the song of sand.

1435. 15 September 2007 - 6:25am
What star is this to guide the Magus?
O Venus! Hold the heart of me
to your breast. See dawn here
uncover the vestments of the night's
vigil, the day's light.

1436. 16 September 2007 - 7:17am
The country of flowers decomposes
to bedrock. Animal and vegetable
barely tolerated: each aspect
etched in contours of face and hand,
and voice of the desert.

1437. 17 September 2007 - 7:44am
Has God forsaken this desiccated place
of thorns? Here light reveals
the bedrock of creation,
where the serpent takes refuge
& no apples tempt Adam's children.

1438. 18 September 2007 - 8:42am
The dragon of the desert sleeps
beneath imperial galaxies cooling
his tongue. A muishond forages
nearby. At dawn he'll return
to his burrow & the dragon arise.

1439. 19 September 2007 - 7:39am
Along the river bed only camelthorn
still search for water deep beneath
in the course of an old season.
A young kudu cow savours the moisture
among the thorns.

1440. 20 September 2007 - 7:19am
The Namib dawn still cool as starlight,
rises through the camelthorn like
a bauble searching for an old season,
called out by Namaqua doves
in a chant of peace.

1441. 21 September 2007 - 7:29am
The caul of the Namib is a thin skin
on a miscarried mountain of the moon.
So, the cadavers & skeletons lie bleached
in the river of desiccation: a dove calls.

1442. 21 September 2007 - 11:29am
The old monk finds God in the desert
after forty days. God speaks, he listens.
A figure shimmers over a red dune,
but neither God nor the old monk
hear his cry.

1443. 22 September 2007 - 7:37am
The body of the red dune is footprinted
with dramas of the night:
each player & the sands of time.
See there the cobra uncoiling,
where the gemsbok passes by.

1444. 23 September 2007 - 7:29am
I have seen the desert of dreams
where my muse walks across the sands
searching for a poet among the ruminants.
Each step in the lens of a mad eye's

1445. 24 September 2007 - 8:22am
Every day is a holiday to the old monk,
as it is in the wilderness of prayer.
Today he will give thanks to all creation:
life & death, the desert sunset, water.

1446. 24 September 2007 - 4:12pm
The old hippie riffs a bygone tune
like the high school photo with three
of the team long in the grave.
He smiles: remembers sweet Mary-Lou
who died last year.

1447. 25 September 2007 – 8:34am
Richard watches the cat next door.
He replays a scene from memory,
holds his breath, but she hears him
sneak illicit glances, reads his mind
with feline grace.

1448. 26 September 2007 - 7:37am
The old monk watches a family
of mallard patrol the pond & reflects
on consequences. His life is blessed
by faith, hope, charity: these three.
But what of kin?

1449. 27 September 2007 - 8:01am
The full moon rises over conversation
and the swelling tide. A Southern Right
wallows in the offing, bisects the light
with dark thoughts articulated
by a poet.

1450. 28 September 2007 - 7:44am
Richard will not wear a raincoat,
not even in the virgin forest where
the peacock screams at the bird
of paradise. He prefers to feel
rain on his cheek, naked.

1451. 29 September 2007 - 7:39am
Richard likes an early breakfast.
Sweet melons are a favourite,
followed by bacon, preferably back,
his eggs scrambled and a kipper: so,
Richard's satisfaction.

1452. 30 September 2007 - 7:04am
My friend Richard is a worm sometimes
& withdraws into a pursed sulk.
Even his favourite cat has difficulty
arousing him & is obliged to tempt him
with titbits.

1453. 1 October 2007 - 7:01am
The boats alongside the quay, washed down,
the catch gutted, a whiff of coarse tobacco
on the wind, reminds me of a joy
a boy inhaled in this kelp-swayed bay.

1454. 1 October 2007 - 11:31am
My mate Richard is not into assholes, and -
boy-oh-boy - is he cunning or what!
Watch him sneak up on a cat dozing
in the sun: how he keeps quiet
as an old dog.

1455. 2 October 2007 - 7:42am
An old man speaks of truth & lies:
how each is the other, how wisdom
is foolish, how a man cannot hide
from the idiot within or without.
He finds comfort there.

1456. 3 October 2007 - 7:40am
Do you recall the old days
when Karl Marx was an alternative?
And Russia - oh mother - a severe cold?
'One day in the life' spat out on Red Square:
chewing gum.

1457. 4 October 2007 - 8:13am
What zone is this? The city merges with
the night of screams & engines, war
machines & blood. The traffic of flesh
stimulating last rites as I walk into hell.

1458. 5 October 2007 - 8:38am
The old monk watches a fisherman
darn his net in the afternoon light.
As he mends he draws on his pipe,
inhales the aroma, spits over the gunnel
of Marion Dawn.

1459. 6 October 2007 - 7:00am
I hear the herring gulls glide above
the shore of longing, calling the tide
in me, the moon of memories, the ships
in the offing, the cottage of joys,
the song.

1460. 7 October 2007 - 10:29am
A doggerel of poets mug a metaphor
out strolling with a beautiful sonnet
& her fairy tale, end write there.
I wish you could've scene the look of
their faeces.

1461. 8 October 2007 - 7:24am
Warriors sleep now rehearsing dreams.
Carrion pick at roadkill in dawn patrols.
The war thunders in the distance.
Can you smell death in the morning

1462. 9 October 2007 - 6:46am
A poet reads from her verse to move
a sense to remembered odours or
visions that, like miracles, take wing, or
the touch of her lover whose fingers
are prayers.

1463. 10 October 2007 - 6:41am
Grace is an old currency debased
on the face of it by other values.
At its centre is a knowing I thought
I had: that understands your embrace
needs no reason.

1464. 11 October 2007 - 6:43am
A man asks, what is it to be liked,
and what it means to be loved.
And she replies, to be liked is your reward
for good service. Love seeks
no benefit itself.

1465. 12 October 2007 - 7:04am
A melancholic poet awakes at dawn
to rehearse. Today the sun rises
on schedule heralding a perfect day
it seems. Even tomorrow's troubles
are silver-plated.

1466. 13 October 2007 - 6:55am
An alchemist is imprisoned in the laboratory
of a wizard to teach poets to spell.
40 years pass. The alchemist turns water
to wine, the poets to frogs & toads.

1467. 14 October 2007 - 7:14am
The old monk knows loneliness
& mountains: in both he finds depths
& heights. Places of reflection where
the stream is the unconscious flight
of a black eagle.

1468. 14 October 2007 - 8:55am
The old monk asks no questions
in his prayers, gives no thanks,
requests no intercessions, hears
nothing. Nothing but breakers
tumbling over the reef: himself.

1469. 15 October 2007 - 6:33am
A man seeks the woman he loves
in a dream. She speaks: he hears
the screams of old wounds in her
mouth. He stretches to touch her,
but she has gone to silence.

1470. 16 October 2007 - 7:29am
A man argues love is conditional:
he loves because she loves him.
And the converse.
I am overcome with sadness.
That we love in partiality.
That I love in part.

1471. 17 October 2007 - 6:55am
A man asks another to have faith
or knowledge, for he has neither.
Does the sparrow fly with either?
Does an eagle see beyond ignorance?
Is love beyond knowing?

1472. 18 October 2007 - 6:59am
Is love a candle in the night,
an edge of moon after dusk
to break the fast? The light
in your eye reflecting joy
and how the evening air
moves your hair & me?

1473. 19 October 2007 - 6:40am
Who counts the days but the prisoner?
A perennial greening of years,
the geology of memories,
the tide that breathes: these
fingers that touch your cheek,

1474. 20 October 2007 - 9:25am
Thus the man speaks in his cups,
searches for his tongue
in the violence of morning light.
Little glory, the standards lowered,
he lies demasted and beached.

1475. 21 October 2007 - 7:41am
Land of my fathers soldiers on:
the band plays, mothers weep.
In the distance a church tolls
the passing years. Oh, Agnus Dei,
bleating among tombs and ghosts.

1476. 22 October 2007 - 7:39am
A man, searching for the last god,
meets a crow tearing flesh
from a road-kill. He asks directions.
The crow points to a poet's house,
says 'He knows', laughs.

1477. 23 October 2007 - 8:33am
I drag the ball & chain of an old metaphor
to the edge of the poem, watch it
topple then plummet soundlessly to shatter
on the pavings of concrete mediocrity.

1478. 24 October 2007 - 7:24am
A crowd of clichés assemble
on the White House lawn
to take notes. A line chews
his pencil, a metaphor coughs,
dignity snores quietly.
A proper noun imagines.

1479. 25 October 2007 - 6:35am
Gull and star turn over the deck,
dawn swells in the east blushing
through the rigging that sings
under a trading breeze. Slangkop
light sweeps horizons still.

1480. 26 October 2007 - 11:29am
Last night the moon, rising full,
edged further from earth's pull.
The tide and lovers sighed.
We watched it, its passage
into night, reflecting our own light.

1481. 27 October 2007 - 7:11am
She devours him slowly. First
his eyes, taken in as fruit
delicately, savoured, lingering
her tongue over the texture.
He cannot move, frozen,
compelled, dies.

1482. 28 October 2007 - 7:05am
The machines danced last night
in a mindless strobe of light
until the birds awoke, found voice
and harmony in the waning moon:
to bring disconcerted sleep.

1483. 29 October 2007 - 6:48am
Night music of the Bushveld:
strange rhythms drum beyond
this thin-skinned canvas
taut as a straining ear.
Screams of terror,
or was that pleasure,
root & claw.

1484. 30 October 2007 - 6:26am
A night sky opens, stars fall
like rain: darkness remains.
I listen to the surrounding terror:
screams, yelps & hoots stab & slash.
In the east silence rises.

1485. 31 October 2007 - 6:00am
The Limpopo lies dark & mysterious
as a Nile crocodile warming its blood
on a bank. I'm a heartbeat
from terror: my tent-thin skin
prickles in the bloody heat.

1486. 1 November 2007 - 6:00am
Limpopo dawns cool, still:
Piet-my-vrou calls me from darkness.
Overhead a Vervet displays
his vivid blue genitals then,
with emphatic contempt,

1487. 2 November 2007 - 6:00am
Southern Cross dawn:
last stars failing into light
over Limpopo. The river course
dry, spoor-pocked pools
remain for frog & Pied King-
fisher, not Fish Eagle.

1488. 3 November 2007 - 6:13am
At the confluence of culture
and language, the rivers
have dried to barren sand.
I prate in an abrasive tongue
of wilderness & heat,
thank gods by a donkey.

1489. 4 November 2007 - 5:41am
Tshipise: last quarter & Venus
brighter than morning light.
Long reeds sway to a weaver's
argument resting on a precarious
premise, I listen to with this smile.

1490. 4 November 2007 - 5:57pm
A troop - surely a misnomer
for such independence -
of Vervets consider a raid
on our larder. We prepare
to match cunning with fire
und sturm. The whisky safe.

1491. 5 November 2007 6.05am
Wilderness gives way to cultivation
as my dreams to the logic of this age.
The Vervet knows of fruit & berry,
I navigate Pick 'n Pay, surf the Internet,
an ape.

1492. 6 November 2007 - 7:00am
How many greens are there?
Each one rests on my eye
in this wild harmony where
all know their place bar me.
And I am learning how to
listen, to still my voice.

1493. 6 November 2007 - 7:55am
A Purple-crested Lurie hides
in the canopy, green & silent
as the watcher. Until, with a raucous
draws ear & eye
to vivid scarlet flight.

1494. 7 November 2007 - 7:28am
If I were a great Black Eagle,
master of mountains, would I
see meaning in my broken wing?
See him here at my feet, petty man,
short-sighted, slow and noisy.

1495. 8 November 2007 - 7:44am
The foot of the great Black Eagle
kills. Each talon a stiletto to stab,
to maim. Dead or not the butcher's
cleaver beak tears apart flesh, bone.
Mind your step.

1496. 9 November 2007 - 7:10am
They speak the language of birds
who stop to listen to an ancient
song of yearning for a daughter
lost in the forest dream where
leaves fall to her bridal bed.

1497. 10 November 2007 - 6:49am
Where have the horizons gone?
A demented Piet-my-vrou calls
over-here over-here over-here!
All I find is an empty Dimple Haig.
The bird's flown, the fire's out.

1498. 10 November 2007 - 10:06am
The horizon flees eastward
under the heel of an unruly sun.
I watch with growing sympathy:
the morning yawns
with the indifference
of a tramp picking his nose.

1499. 10 November 2007 - 10:55am
Afterwards I drink lying prone,
from a pool in the purple forest.
I am watched covetously by an absence
whose empty eyes weep endlessly
informing the rain god.

1500. 10 November 2007 - 4:00pm
No birds sing in this tight-assed
shopping mall, but they strut,
preen taking credit here and there,
the naked or profane. And who am I,
also lost behind glass?

1501. 11 November 2007 - 6:06am
The river lies there still no doubt
in its pools of thirst & song.
I imagine a moment's madness
as a dream of the great city
trafficked, policed, ordered, ugly.

1502. 12 November 2007 - 6:25am
When he got home, Richard had a bone
to pick with a cat who was wearing
little more than a smile. Funny how
one thing leads to another,
how easy to dig a hole.

1503. 13 November 2007 - 7:28am
Richard loves country pleasures:
the rich scents of the deep bush,
intimacies of grunt & shriek
at night, the slow arousing dawn,
the smoking embers of fantasy.

1504. 14 November 2007 - 7:19am
It all begins. It never begins.
It all ends. It never ends.
It includes time. It excludes time.
I live. You live. We are roses,
lilies of the field, mice & men.

1505. 15 November 2007 - 6:59am
My words slip away as mussels do
from the pounding sea or as stars do,
fading out of sight. The world is simpler
now I know so little of it:
picnics at sunset.

1506. 16 November 2007 - 6:24am
Low spare hills sunk to the shoulders
in grey twilight, a light snow gusting
across the dark bay where the last
pack-ice wallows heavily
inside my nightmare.

1507. 17 November 2007 - 7:32am
A great wind comes surfing in,
restrained by wings of kites
tethered to men bracing themselves
across the skittish shore, gripped
to find foothold and breath.

1508. 18 November 2007 - 6:57am
The rocky shore stands
weathering the sea.
It has not altered,
to my childish eye,
though the man sees
through a kaleidoscope.
Herring gulls unmoved here still.

1509. 19 November 2007 - 7:08am
Had it stayed still, blending
with the fallen & decayed
leaves, I would not have seen.
But an ancient peripheral eye quickly
fixed on the chevroned puff-adder.

1510. 20 November 2007 - 8:10am
The sea claims me, calls me
with many voices, embraces me,
feels the moon's tug across waters,
tumbles over the reefs of my beliefs
to my cliffs and shores.

1511. 21 November 2007 - 6:10am
What do I see through this black burka's
turret? The world described, partially,
in ignorance of mastery. Every mystery
lost in impenetrable thickets of faith.

1512. 22 November 2007 - 6:52am
Am I adapted to bigotry by nature?
A narrowness of vision: does it
describe a spectrum of light & mind?
I imagine beyond rods & cones:
sights & sounds of life.

1513. 23 November 2007 - 8:46am
Words push & shove like pennies
and other old coin or promises.
I hear them cry out in a tongue
of forgotten days I speak no more.
A pocket of coppers jangling.

1514. 24 November 2007 - 6:44am
The harmonica man packs 21
mouth-organs for the gig tonight.
Each instrument differs: some
by key or an octave more & less.
He plays eyes closed, sees the song.

1515. 25 November 2007 - 6:49am
Her words translate the grammar
of mountain, valley & water
to my tongue's ear. I hear
words fly in the heights
beyond my recognition,
with eagles & angels.

1516. 26 November 2007 - 6:20am
There are memories yet
living in the forest. My ear
attends & peripheral eye
to these, though I bend
before each nodding bloom
listening to distances of green.

1517. 27 November 2007 - 7:45am
A cascade of peach nasturtiums,
gold, vivid orange, fall over our wall
in the morning rain. Each leaf
holds up a handful of diamonds
to a troubled world's face.

1518. 28 November 2007 - 7:36am
An old flame warms my heart
in an old country of mist & memories
that line the lanes of brambles
and blackberries and church bells
calling me across the lee.

1519. 28 November 2007 - 9:34pm
The golf estate lies as still as a lake
in the depths of the vineyards & the valley.
It is cultivated & possessed by the devil
knows what games of power play.

1520. 29 November 2007 - 9:11am
There are no flowers in the dream.
The ice comes from an iron age:
the sea grey & thin as cold soup.
No shadows lengthen in the silence:
we lie alone exhausted.

1521. 30 November 2007 - 6:33am
There is a disturbance in the air,
shadows are misaligned & blurred.
Yesterday only one tide rose swollen
in the bay. A half moon hangs motionless
in the heat.

1522. 1 December 2007 - 9:05am
Shadows pass my curtained dream
where holographs speak in the tongues
of men & of angels, of their charity
and meaning in hatred,
of the children's lost years.

1523. 2 December 2007 - 7:46am
Where are the seasons of boyhood?
I cannot find spring in my eye
though the frangipani buds.
The world has turned to discontent,
a wintry gloom, low and wet.

1524. 3 December 2007 - 7:11am
I can here the gulls again
the other side of town.
And smell the airs that stir
my blood, that voyage, that
sea, that Circe, that island,
I hold close as life.

1525. 4 December 2007 - 7:39am
Few birds remain & those small
enough to sustain a nest
with the slightest scraps. Who knows
of the rest, where they are?
What the silence means, the iron cold?

1526. 5 December 2007 - 6:11am
My friend Richard heard a poet's words
on sex: lets coin the form an amorism.
Which is the witless rhyme that dismembers
all passion's fruits to dry discourse.

1527. 6 December 2007 - 7:46am
The lost line seeks a poet's treasury
where his jewelled mind is worked
into crown, pendant, ring, necklace.
It's wondrous at creation's crucible:

1528. 7 December 2007 - 6:46am
There is beauty in a tear.
As if a world falls from her eye,
as if it holds all knowledge
against her cheek. And yet
it is a season only:
the rain will pass.

1529. 7 December 2007 - 7:03am
In the garden of her memories
the spring of longing waters
the lilies of her love. He knows
this, places his silk kerchief in her
palm to keep safe her smile.

1530. 8 December 2007 - 6:47am
Each prayer falls into the air
as a leaf humours the autumn breeze.
They lie beneath her moulding her
mottled opinions of the season,
lifted by an impish voice.

1531. 9 December 2007 - 7:47am
Through the woods a stream
cuts over a fall, smooths
boulder, shapes into form:
animal, human, female. Genitalia
of dream, lust, longs:
a mind's eye deceiving.

1532. 10 December 2007 - 6:43am
An old seaman sees 40 years
of wilderness across the bay
where a stiff westerly holds
the jack taut. The sun sets
over quarterdeck pipes,
the ensign saluting.

1533. 11 December 2007 - 7:23am
I see in her old face the beauty
of youth, in her gnarled fingers
hands that first held me
to look at the world in awe.
She winks at me still, conspiratorially.

1534. 12 December 2007 - 6:49am
Memory shrinks steadily with the years
under my heel: forces of nature
drawing me ever closer to myself.
Even my thoughts can't escape
the gravity of this age.

1535. 13 December 2007 - 6:49am
At last the beach & the reef,
and the gulls close on an air
that sings the old melody
of before-times. Out pipes!
Let go aft! So, to the west
I reach my course.

1536. 14 December 2007 - 6:56am
The world pivots on its head,
reveals a soiled & foetid end
demanding faith & loyalty
I cannot find within. No,
these eyes close, prefer
the nightmare's lens.

1537. 15 December 2007 - 6:00am
I know these mountain paths
as I do an old lover. Each contour
leads me on to explore further
your secret places, the peaks
and valleys, the coolest streams.

1538. 16 December 2007 - 6:00am
History is so embedded in this geology
it has turned to stone.
Petrified in their last agony,
beast or dragon leers from tomb
& battlement watching my descent.

1539. 17 December - 6:00am
The ambit of these mountains
is space & time. Here, heart
and soul escape the gravity
of a newer world to soar
among cliffs of ages. Here,
time sleeps & snores.

1540. 18 December 2007 - 6:00am
I cannot leave the mountains,
some vital part remains always.
Only the sea calls louder
from her silences to embrace me. So,
I am drawn between sea and summit.

1541. 19 December 2007 - 7:06am
Let me touch your heart again,
just there where you curve to the taste
of promises. Let me see the ocean
deep in your smile that echoes
to your laughter's song.

1542. 20 December 2007 - 7:05am
The old monk dislikes the summer heat.
As a boy he would strip off to swim
in the river above the weir as boys do.
Now he sits under the willows with memories.

1543. 21 December 2007 - 7:26am
There's been a mistake, he said.
Who are these people? I don't know
them. Why does she feed me, call me
child? I must find my own. How did I
get lost so easily?

1544. 22 December 2007 - 7:42am
I remember my father's eyes,
how brown, as mine. Though
his had a flintiness and mine
are flecked hazel by mother's blue.
Hers are beautiful still & not blind.

1545. 23 December 2007 - 6:57am
The calendar of eves mark the shores
of night, where I dream of battles
lost. Faces there stare at me, bare
their teeth and the bloody gums
of their feeding.

1546. 24 December 2007 - 8:38am
What faith is this that would move
mountains in the absence of charity?
I hear the stream fall from the heights
of rhetoric where an old monk,
wearily prays.

1547. 25 December 2007 - 7:20am
Three wise men would not drink thus
with mein host so earthly nor heaven
overcast & grumbling from the hills.
But I wish you glad tidings & great joy, happily.

1548. 26 December 2007 - 9:49am
The mood changes to optimism,
metaphors lift from a poet's
face: reveal fine-boned structures.
But the music remains, if but an echo
of jingles lost in a mall.

1549. 27 December 2007 - 7:45am
The year drains into its last repast.
Bands play, there's an auld song
with kisses. Somehow time copes,
the clock ticks, the page is printed,
the poet imagines.

1550. 28 December 2007 - 6:54am
Richard loves country pleasures so,
as an upright citizen, exercises
body & soul among hill & valley.
There, on his knee, he prays to
repercussion & repetition.

1551. 29 December 2007 - 7:56am
The words a poet sees in the mirror,
taunt & tease, are wilful & shall not
come to the page, stamping their petulance
into carpeted clichés & threadbare lines.

1552. 30 December 2007 - 7:24am
A poet's eye is an ear of light
longing to be heard as the new moon
rises over a westing night Or,
it is the vagrant city's scream:
emptying bowels of plenty.

1553. 31 December 2007 - 9:58am
A happy poet writes the last line,
turns the page as the knight
turns to cinders & men to mice.
Raises a glass to his visions,
too deep in his cups to view.