For witless wonder,
I wonder,
do its servants
chase
winkless
wrinkles
in time long-gone?
Is a thin piece
of cloth
so performative?
So political?
Or are you trailing
crescendoes of
long-tuneless
songs?

dreams become routine
once rare rainbows
common as windows
like a tooth loose
inside the mouth
internal screams
echo loud

in a quarantined life
grinding whites
start migraines
muted response
hardens the heart
clanking bottles
sound like prison bars
the silence in between
really gets to you

in a quarantined life
frayed jeans drag along
a thousand-mile floor
back doing laps
on checkered tiles
down town centre aisles
trapped
confined
suffocated
undefined
chest tight
skull binding

fear the worst
speaking this verse
scratching thirty years
writing for the blind
passion resigns
a puzzle of likes
time with friends
feeling alive
only in the mind
county borders and timelines
have no end

in a quarantined life
there’s surprise
in a book spine
absorb the cover
with dry eyes
find the grey
between barcode lines
later yield
in a swirling field
birds of prey
define the day
finally
away

Body clock set to Vienna day trips,
walks atop the white cliffs of Dover,
avoiding sunburn in Roman forums -

only here it's flexed bare chests,
belly buttons pierce snail trail hair,
while tattoos sweat through skin.

Discount ***** hangs on booming breath,
headache-inducing marijuana stench
crawls up nostrils from inside pockets

like a chef advertising to the streets
via an air vent. Craving cartoon fantasy -
empathy in the world, even for humidity,

as we wait for a break in proceedings,
I pray the thunderstorms bring fresh relief.

Girlfriend left, again.
Car broke down.
Went outside,
Watched a cricket die.

I have been addicted to things –
to songs, people, voice
to prayers, love, hymns.
And when once in a while
I feel alone, struggling to be strong
I see,
that I have been addicted to things –
to distraction, chatboxes and messages,
it will be okay, alright and don’t be afraid,
and when once in a while
the only voice you hear
is your own heartbeat,
I realize
I have been addicted to things.

The things I have gained in past few months,
is back pain and weight,
and the knowledge of the things that I absolutely need,
and what I can do without
The question of wealth,
the importance of health
And praying for well being of all.

Hello happy hour!
I see you're now reduced
to fifteen minutes of
soft drinks and
smiling depression:
simper and wine.
check that...Sprite.

But I'll drink to
nagging doubt anyway.

Cars are now a kick.
Who knew gridlock
could offer such joyride:
the drive home each day
my ******* sabbatical.

I wrote 3 letters the other day
(the handwritten, paper kind)
and feel a little
like Jane Austen.
I think she'd like Dr. Pepper,
but not Mr. Pibb.
Too foppish.

Then there's this:
the wax and wane
of life between the bed
and the couch.
There's six degrees
of separation
through the five layers
of this reusable face mask.

Speaking of masks:
"one for the money,
two for the show,
three to make ready
and four to go."

And somehow I know
I will never breathe it in
that way again.

Random curtain calls:
I'm so starved for someone
to talk to; the mail lady
had me at "hello."
I offered her a soda.
Mail order catalogs are king.
The Saturday Night Special
from the burglar alarm brochure
was my final good buy.

Reflecting.....

As the pace of life slows
To protect my health
I sit here reflecting
For I can’t do much else

The global situation
On all our minds
Surreal as it is
The Earth is doing fine

I sit here listening
To the sounds of Soweto
Wondering if there’s anyone else
Like me.... locked down in Soweto

Luck it may have been
I consider myself lucky still
I wouldn’t want to be stuck anywhere else
What a story I now have to tell

There is hardship and struggle
Even for us every day
Yet there is also love... beauty...
Something so special to be here to “stay”

I’m no tourist
But still I feel unique
I wonder... is there anyone else?
Anyone else like me?

I feel I belong
I always have
But now this feelings deeper
I forget I’m not local infact!

It’s only when I sit here
And think, everything still
That I remember I’m different
Yet I’m treated like a local

I have become a Sowetan
And it didn’t start this year
It’s been happening slowly
The township adopted me, year after year

People are varied
Some are illegal
Yet, as written in the constitution
This country belongs to all

I love South Africa
But not all of it’s the same
It’s here in Soweto
Here - I got a new name

I don’t feel any different
To others around me
I have become one of them
But still wonder..... is there anyone else like me?

Getting stuck here was a blessing
How things fall into place!
Although no one anticipated COVID
Being in Soweto puts a smile on my face

I feel it’s almost sacred
To find myself here
During this global pandemic
I’ve been “protected “ it’s clear

I’m here for a reason
That has been proven to me
And whatever the reason
... it was just meant to be

I “belong “ here in Soweto
There IS no one like me
I am now a Sowetan
...just as it was “meant to be”

Ngiyabonga beautiful people **

Since when was this handheld device
the extent of our physical love?
From across the room I stare at it
half expecting it to blow
The illumination of the screen now mirrors the enlightenment I once felt
in your arms
Though of course much diminished.
I am beginning to fear it
knowing the potential of our words to form
exit wounds
How can I predict the disaster I may inflict when i no longer know the surroundings of this battlefield?
I throw this bomb against my floor, knowing the eruption of this force will be lesser than what is now incinerating through my head
from your words.