MIRIAM NEIGER-FLEISCHMANN EXILE I am a poet exiled to fields of colour, seed words in the furrow of the brush sprout rhymed lines upon soft canvases fertilise them with pigments, make pictures grow. I am a painter exiled from fields…
GERMAIN DROOGENBROODT (edited by) You would love that the words let you live again the touch of things, the touch that wakes the naked skin and fills it again and again, being able to feel the eyes on the eyes,…
WRITE FOR ME Write for me a love poem when the moon calls her maids to stud with shining pearls the dark dome Write for me a love poem when the winds gently move the tops of the trees playing…
GERMAIN DROOGENBROODT (edited by) COME BACK Come back often and take hold of me, sensation that I love come back and take hold of me— when the body’s memory awakens and an old longing again moves into the blood, when…
WE WERE NOT BORN FOR DAYS LIKE THESE In one’s life, days like these should never happen again Such a thing Such a thought Such a day should never happen again, for that purpose I will throw all what I…
GERMAIN DROOGENBROODT (edited by) AS YET UNBORN Oh to be Adam again with all his ribs yearning for a woman as yet unborn, mouth free of the taste of apples, ears without the hiss of snakes, mindless of nakedness and…
GERMAIN DROOGENBROODT (edited by) She wept in the morning She wept at noon She wept in the evening At morning she lost a son At noon she lost another At evening she lost the last of family In the next…
