Rain Daisies & Redcurrants

Colour splash –

a sort-of,

raspberry coulis –

fringes the Western Cape of

dusty corners,

their heat-heavy blossoms rooted

at the very edge of spring.


Our yellow glob wakes

and blisters

the fleshy sheath

of dry land,

an old frost thawing

to quell the dirt’s thirst.


Us poor slugs

are just hapless & fat,

but as a curious crowd collects

like a snug of kids beneath

leaves of a strawberry field,

a mouthful of giggles

is our giveaway.

The Trees Will Sleep


lost girl,

your pale mark

and mulberry punches


in the memory of your old lovers,

their bodies

time-bent with the apple boughs,

Siamese skin

cut from other sky.


You must

remember to breathe

in the sincerity of night,


those casual hearts still beat

like a pomegranate morning,


those two rising suns still loom


behind your freckled eyes.


Karla M.


Her face points upward,

snow-covered precipice,

a wing of light

against the city’s blackened cheek.


Embark upon the ancient spice trails

of her breath,

follow the Li River

and set sail to Elephant Mountain,


a frozen emerald

 shivering in the lemon sunset,

like the ripples in rock-pools

at her feet.


Step free from dream’s edge

and pull down the sky,

heaven’s curtain



‘rice grows and the land is invisible,

by the pomegranate water,

                                      in the clear air

                                                   over Li Chiang’.

I, Luna


‘neath the ebb and flow of a tide,

your water-bitten skin


dripped in night’s inkwell.


Lay under her

and she’ll have seen the sun once,

warmer shoulders parting waves,

two eyes wide like cities

blanketed by stars,


breathing the same sky,

but in search for clearer seas.

She washes over you,


rose-tinted moon,


and half-light at dark

in Earth-spun sleep,

she’ll carry you from the shore

to set you free,

let you leave

like driftwood on the ocean.


for O.