Orphan (Revised)

In a small waterfront bar in the old Cape of Good Hope,
a place created by the gods for lost souls and orphans,
we drank warm melancholy cocktails out of old bottles
wrapped in cheap brown paper bags to hide our sin
when your soul unexpectedly spilled in from the cold dark rain.

A thousand miles away I lift my eyes to the clear blue skies
and remembering and wondering about the crossroads of life
wrapped up in the inaudible plea drifting up from your voice
wordlessly telling me of pain that the universe holds in my heart
because it sees you and wants to throw its arms around you.


Daar in ń waterkant bar van die ou Kaap
Die plek van verlore siele en weeskinders.
Drink ons warm drankies uit ou bottels,
begrawe in goedkoop bruin papier sakke.
Jou siel val laat nag in uit die koue reen.
Nou kyk ek hier op na die ope blou hemel,
ek onthou, maar wonder oor ons kruispad.
Daar is ń woordelose roep in jou stem,
en praat jy onbewustelik jou pyn met my.
Die heelal hou sy asem op in my hart,
dit sien jou en wil sy arms om jou gooi.

That Thing

That thing lay trembling on a cold floor
The final desolate implosion of despair
It called for succour but you did not hear
It offered a hand to the abyss you crafted
That thing grew ancient and then perished there
The closing recital from the ghoulish elegy of faith
A celestial untiring lament gently stirs the sable dusty relics
A precious stone tumbles from the heart of that dead thing


I hung my love
with care
onto soft white edges
of spring clouds
as waves crash
onto ancient shores
if the peaceful breeze
will be a companion
to my sun
or disappear
with the clouds
and your love
to unreachable lands

Night Music

A violin breaks open its heart
in the light of the dying moon
releasing its mournful weeping
into the abandoned city night.

The voices hum with the drums
holding the cold hands of winter
dance in dark fearful corners
tiptoeing over my sleeping skin.