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De Jeune


Sometimes, inspiration and imagination have strange effects.


De Jeune


Swallows dive, swoon

like wind-swayed ink drops

down, and beyond the light:


swallowed by the sky,

flown blue, over

road-birds – honed

by simple flight.


Like arrows in Canada

in thunderhead afternoons:

clouds rolling, rutting hinds

in migration, pounding sand-trails,


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Their collective decision is made
No words detected, but a powerful call
From within and a shift in the weather;
It's time to leave - to begin the mighty migration
250km of harsh terrain lie ahead
From the Chobe river to the hopeful paradise of Nxai Pan
Open plains, dense forrests
And all too many enemies lie in wait
Packs of wild dogs and hyenas
Leopards, snakes and vulture...

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How to get everything you ever wanted

Invent a war.
Something bloody and fratricidal.
Lose an uncle to barrel bombs
a brother to secret police.

Three years in, flee.
Pack only what you can carry:
clothes, smartphone, children, cash.
Slip away at night, in silence.

Take your leave of the flat, bakery, office,
rubble-filled streets where the kids once ran
shell of the cafe where old men
drank qahwa, played she...

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Sepulchral Body.

I forget how once
I recited your name.
Frayed blossom spent
seven thorns from seven wounds
of loving you.

Sepulchral body
rhythmic dancing
rupturing those vessels
 from the  pungent flesh of servitude
The garden – my garden
 now barren and prickly
a desert cactus
gouging the flesh
cold and bare rock faced.

I observe those migratory birds
soaring their temperate destination
as per...

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