Friday 25 December 2015

A corner


In this strange land where I have no place, I found a bench on a park: my solace, my spot, my whereabouts and my piece of green. Here nothing touches.



Sunday 13 December 2015

At Night



Armed Soldiers swarm the garden

Scorching everything in its path

Our home infested

Bodies crawling, wailing

Wretched hatchlings of a better time

A red tide covers the floor

The neighbours trembling

No more than cockroaches

Scrambled in crevices

Torn between salvation and succour

Nobody breathed for an eternity and a half

Infernal nights

Bedevilled the country

Only fear and despair

Hovering in the sky


Saturday 12 September 2015


Waiting for you on a Sunday afternoon
On my bench I remember the sun eroding your skin
Our land so far away

Tuesday 18 August 2015


For her, the sky at night was velvet devoured by luminous moths.





Friday 17 July 2015


Behold the sunbirds,

 Mutters in her deathbed,  

After all 

What else is there to do, 

Now that even the shadows have departed?

Monday 13 July 2015


Long after they have gone
She kept dreaming
The colour of their hair
Under the meandering afternoon sky

Monday 1 June 2015


                             One hundred steps from the house to the newsagent

One hundred steps from the house to the park

               One hundred steps from the house to the lights

                                                                       One hundred steps from the house to the pond

One hundred steps going nowhere

Friday 29 May 2015


I came a long time ago

Have no friends

Just the streets and the sky

Do I feel alone? 

Sometimes in the afternoon

 Fleeting rush swerving around my skin.

Saturday 23 May 2015



Where is she? In the small airless cupboard-sized room, or beneath the sofa burning candles to expel the wandering ghosts-always ready to steal her voice, perhaps on the bed petrified next to her mother's corpse, on the stairs dirty as mud, on the chair defying her grandmother, drinking ketchup directly from the bottle, showing her ass in front of the cracked mirror, spitting on the face reflected. Where is she?


Sunday 3 May 2015


She walks around looking for a trace, a sign of a long forgotten sky.

Monday 23 February 2015


You are here and will always be

                                                                                                            Forget about the past                                 

    It is done and gone


 You have nothing besides your shadow.