Evaporation

Okay, so my last blog died after a mysterious earthquake hit the online world and now that the dust has settled I’ve decided to get back at it. It’s going to be like it was before only a little different. I thought about starting over on tumblr (what with new friends and all) but all those flashing lights and links left me so confused I could barely login, so this will have to do for now.

So my blog has moved and in real life I’ve moved too; from Sea Point to Sunnydale, a suburb even more boring than Fish Hoek if such a thing is possible (but the beaches are better). My neighbour, on the other side of the electric fence, likes cars. I mean he really, really likes cars and his driveway has a number of them in various stages of decomposition. At night he listens to music with a lot of base in it. It’s hard not to notice when I’m lying on my coach with a copy of Allen Ginsberg’s Selected Poems and I’m wondering why the walls are shaking.

I forgot to ask the landlady about the neighbours. She said everyone’s pretty friendly (on the inside perimeter of the electric fence) and that having a cat is not such a good idea, especially if it’s prone to climbing fences. Everything’s changed. Again.

My love affair with poetry continues and so I wanted to start this season with one of my favourite poets, Lisa Zaran. Look what she says in only 6 sentences…

Evaporation

I've left pens in a red rush behind me, full of words I meant to write.
Scars on the soft edge of nouns, verbs I meant to give life to and forgot.
Stories, once started, lost reason, as adjectives fell left and right.
There were times I believed, I'm a thin woman now, my children stand
on a dusty road, their witness-mouths twisted shut. Every night, I wish on a star.
Oftentimes, the desert sky is dead in all its eloquence. I still whisper.