HER IMAGES

The reflection in the Christmas ornament

makes him remember

what the lense saw in the mirror

and gifted to his sight

and what his eyes

imprinted in his mind.

28.-31.12.2025

BRUSH AND INK

He, gazing at her image,

invites her to step outside

those binding frames

to his caresses

of brush and ink.

28.-31.12.2025

TWO POEMS

1

A man is such a bad object

for art, he tries to make himself

the subject, when he should

be flesh for the eye and imagination,

a hollow shell to fill with desire,

but he wrestles against the governing

eye, unruly, his millennia

of domination cracking paint

and marble entombing him,

the beast, the predator to be defanged,

his immortality should be

to be put on display as a skeleton

and as a skinned flesh

over a rusty iron frame -

but dust will do.

2

What was he thinking about

when he painted this work?

We might never penetrate

this mystery of soft flesh

begetted from his brush,

that organ broken free

by art's scythe akin

to the one birthing Cypris,

this whirling of breast

and buttock and limb

and fair face straight

to capturing canvas,

Monarch butterflies

in their multitude.

28.-31.12.2025

A DAY AND A HALF BEFORE THE YEAR ENDS

The year has but a day and a half to go,

and I choose twice translated Yeats

for my artifice, repetition of the done

over the dying words of Synge

in his last year, and might feel melancholy

remembering a mechanical bird on a bough

in a fairy tale fourty years ago,

the image more than the words

whose black footprints on the page's snow

melted in the mind to slurry,

and those the years took like the singing

bird from the bough, but another child

died of cold in Gaza yesterday

as Israeli artillery celebrated ceasefire,

and in Kordofan ten thousand

were driven from their homes,

and I watching a blank landscape

through pane and years know well

that what pain there is in the loss

empty rooms and empty years make

is nothing beside the cities of the dead,

ten thousand dead under the rubble in Gaza

and blood stained grounds so vast

in El Fasher you can see them from space.

And the murderers free shaking hands

while dead the children that should watch

golden birds on trees singing

to emperors of Byzantium and Cathay,

the caliphs of Baghdad.

The true loss and melancholy

is in the child drowned

in a flooded bomb crater,

in the long years spreading

that would be theirs

murdered by this world

that can make a golden-winged robot sing

on the branch of a plastic tree

but not save its children,

not here where I translate the translated

before turning to Sigerson and Synge

and take a walk to see if the mailman

has brought a golden bird for my bough,

while children huddle in the mountains

of West Papua and in the desert

of Tindouf, parched and cold

under the golden and silver disks,

refugees in old myths

far from stolen homes

down on this Earth.

30.12.2025

WATER FROM A CLEAR SPRING

Making coffee

and making poems,

but only one has water

from a clear spring

that give them taste

of Arcady.

30.-31.12.2025

EL FASHER, TWO MONTHS AFTER

The year is almost at the end

and so many of its dead

lie unburied under the rubble

or hidden in hasty mass graves,

for the old tweets of a released

political prisoner from Cairo

are more hurtful to our era

than grass growing in El Fasher

where spying eyes on the sky

see no life but only mass death -

that can be ignored, as the pigment

of the 150 000 victims was 'wrong'.

30.12.2025

THE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT

The bright sunlight

after the storm at night

calls to its cold caresses,

but at first I will make

coffee and drink black

warmth before the light

comes freezing gold

as I step, enthralled,

in the Sun's beams.

28.12.2025

HARMLESS

One crown of a divided birch

came crashing

down in the storm

reaching for the terrace,

fragmenting

its fifty or sixty years

across the dead grass,

in the darkness menacing,

now, in the light,

reduced to the ending

of things, harmless

but for a metre

of extra growth

that the long decades

had denied.

28.12.2025

BUT I REMEMBERED

I awoke to sunlight

on a Sunday morning,

the year had four mornings

to go, and the storm

that blew throught the night

had scattered fallen

crests of trees and branches,

but I remembered the boy

that drowned in a muddy

hole filled with floodwater

in Gaza yesterday,

they sought him six hours

in darkness beside a ruin,

and lay him on a tarpaulin

his little eyes closed

his head resting on one cheek

against the cold of death,

and nothing that had happened

here mattered, his stolen

seven or eight decades did

and I, in this freezing light,

gathering fallen branches

think of those the 'West' betrayed

in the name of the memorials

for the long dead behind which

the Apartheid regime hides.

28.12.2025

TWO POEMS

What do we deserve

from life?

Everything we have done

to others.

15.02.2014

These gray days

of dead winter

climate changed

bleak windows

to watch reflections

15.02.2014

ONLY A VISION FROM HER CAN GIVE

In his lust-born vision

(may she be blessed

for granting it)

she kneels on the bed

inviting,

               waiting,

his cock, which

she will get

in a long, gentle

and passionate

merging 

of flesh

in which he

shows endurance

only a vision

from her

can give.

31.10.-09.11.-27.11-2025

IN RETURN

If distance denies

slipping between her petals

and showing her his gratitude

then at least he can work hard

as she has made her shaft

and write her verse

that might spark desire

and entice her to play

with herself, and thus could

he give her back a small measure

of what a great muse

would deserve.

30.11.-27.12.2025

BUT THE DAWN WILL BRING UP THE THE TATTERED SHROUD

The land is cast under a white shroud

and the night comes weary with its showel

to rebury the oft entombed autumn

and throws gravel on the shroud

through its long, starless hours.

27.12.2025

IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER

The dying year turning cold,

blood still runs hot

and the hand seeks for eyes

her gifts

that give the flesh

its strength

and the mind

what keeps its warm

as the land in black night

is entombed

with a white shroud.

27.12.2025

HOMECOMING

In the valleys,

thick mist

in the winter

dark,

but on the hills

stars above

burning cold,

as bright

as the winter

had seen.

27.12.2025

LATE DECEMBER DAY, FROM MID-DAY TO EVENING

First light,

abundant,

as the day

reached

its brief

zenith,

and then,

sunlight

hidden

by clouds

sending

abundant

snowflakes

drifting

down

to the darkening

earth, landscape

golden-hued

becoming

white and black,

and the descending

white

succumbing

to the ascending black.

27.12.2025

AS I TRANSLATED A POEM ABOUT LEONARDO DA VINCI'S DRAWING BY MICHAEL FIELD

The morning's vivid light,

brilliance cast 

                        over the withered

land, faded

                    to bleak white

like a slaughterer's armband

as the quick hours 

                               passed,

and where was I

when the sunbeams 

                                  playing

made alive 

the dead season?

Inside, in a cage of walls,

away from the light

flooding the fields,

greening black woods,

in a dim room 

                         translating

dead words of lost,

sinful lovers, 

                      trying

to give the poem

what the sunbeams

gave 

        to the desolate land

four months from first flower,

and now, 

                as the poem

is done,

              as the briefly

awakened land

                         is bleak 

and without the shimmering 

                            gold,

I would cast aside

                              all the words

that twitch like a dead

frog in Volta's current.

23.12.2025

TO HIS MUSE

Know that you are

Leda and that Zeus

is cast from the swan

to make room

for my desire,

he's a sparrow

perching on a branch

enviously looking

as I cover you

with my wings.

20.-23.12.2025

THEIR FIRE EXTINGHUISHED

The night having descended

for the day

has become mist 

and the stars,

fallen on Earth,

their fire extinguished,

sleep among

the dead, soaked

grass waiting

their fiery re-ascension.

20.-23.12.2025

IN 2025

The Zionists 

believe that Fascists

will make the world 

                       safe

for Apartheid and Genocide

and for Jews,

                      that when

Apartheid and Genocide

are accepted and normal,

and no one

                   will be punished

for extermination of nations

in a world

                 ruled by Fascists,

then Jews 

will be safe

while "Sieg Heils"

fill the air,

and what else

there is to say?

20.12.2025

AT THE CHURCHYARD

All the years,

dreams and hopes

unfulfilled, 

the wishes

only they knew,

ends up here,

under stones

that give of the story

only the ending.

18.12.2025

THE RAIN UPON YOU

The mist disappears

into the dark

with the landscape

it envelopes,

you walk through

both, and one

is little more than the ground

beneath your feet,

wet asphalt and gravel,

the sole solid thing,

the second finally

becomes the rain

falling upon you,

the liquid essence

of being.

18.12.2025

HE IS CONSUMED BY HIS VISIONS

I'm so horny today, my dear muse,

that in my visions you have

dropped that pen a hundred times

and each time bending over

I have gripped yout waist firmly -

- just writing I feel my hands

on your flesh -

and slipped inside

(how I wish you could feel now

my thrust),

and in sighing relief

started hammering

your soft, sweet pussy.

30.11.2025

EVEN THE WINTER DOESN'T EXTINGUISH THAT PARTICULAR FIRE

Even amidst all the snow

he think of how he would

- like old poets wrote -

lay sweetly with her

on that ground now made blank

to inscribe with all kinds of acts,

and thinks its good he's burning

with lust because

it might have to be quick.

He thinks looks around the wintry

desolation and all that bleak

black and white fails now

to quench the fiery lust.

So on that solitary, dim place

he thinks of best positions

for the occasion, practical &

which would be most gentlemanly

to protect a lady from the cold

and snow while they sought

their mutual crescendo.

30.11.2025

AFTER BONDI BEACH

People who declare that Palestinians

must live eternally under occupation

and should never be free

are now shouting that Jews

must be able to live without fear,

which to them means

no criticism of genocide, occupation

or Apartheid allowed. You

can never have a situation

where the safety of one people

can be bought by supporting

the oppression and extermination

of an another group of people.

16.12.2025

BETTER THIS WAY

One should not be

thus driven by carnal desires,

hours spend capturing

in words what the flesh would do,

perhaps;

one might say

the mind should be above

such things, surveying

with cold detachment

such feelings and discarding,

yet the human mind

is not just a rider atop the flesh,

gazing serenely from platonic

heights, 

              but often merely along

for our wild gallop

                                after another flesh,

those moments that briefly

reignite the waning light,

make us more than thoughts

binding flesh and minds

and bodies.

07.10.-08.10.-15.11.-17.12.2025

LEDA AND THE SWAN

Watch, like depraved Pan from the shore,

when the great swan under his beating wings

takes Leda, begetting the crimson future

in the womb of her whose sighs

or sobs are lost in the mating;

history that bleeds across the years

like virgin blood is uncaring of fear or desire,

whether maiden lust brings the knife

to Clytaimnestra's avenging hand

or ravishing of innocence drives the sails to Troy 

carrying Helen. They are all already

dust in the evening dusk, those

that will hatch on stage where tragedies

are played, when the great swan floats

away in the dusk and in an another beating

of the wings, rising, flies to Olympos.

17.12.2025

BUT HE A WITHERED STUMP

A satyr pulling a nymph on his lap

and his cock, impaling

her gracious form yet being

lost in her, every movement made

to her growing rhythm,

and he, in his defining lust,

giving, diminishing

into her pleasure. In

the end it won't be her

who is a laurel tree,

but he a withered stump

out of which to carve

something for her lonely hours.

22.11.-17.12.2025

THE SNOW WILL HAVE MELTED AWAY

Awakening, I have no awareness

whether its morning, day or night.

I had fallen asleep on the sofa

late at evening, the world to save

or at least shouting as it drowns,

could have slept fe hours or a day,

and behind the closed curtains

could be darkness or a dim day,

no sunshine, certainly. Disoriented,

adrift in time, floating a chrononaut.

And if time doesn't exist, if these

days are illusion or cast in amber,

mind flowing where there is no

movement except consciousness,

what point is there to drop the anchor

checking time? Finally, sitting before

my laptop that chains me to

world burning, drowning, bleeding,

a coffee mug beside me, an empty

page before me, I check the clock:

Just past eight in the morning

on my father's birthday. He would

be 78 today. The snow on his grave

will have all melted away, like

our years melt away. One day

there will be nothing but silence.

17.12.2025

HE WISHES

I'll give you a rose

to hold between your teeth

and my shaft to hold

between the petals

of your rose.

30.11.2025

ENTHRALLED

I can think nothing else

but having that 

sweet pussy of yours

before me

and filling it with my cock,

thrusting into you

taking you over and over again

as carnal dreams allow.

That sweet pussy of yours,

I can't get enough of it

with my eyes and mind

swept by lust -

think, muse,

how it would be

with my cock.

30.11.-17.12.2025

HE DREAMS

I step on the images

through your mirror

by the magic of that smile

dancing on your lips

and no impeding garment

obscuring the goal of my lust,

sweep you from your feet

and onto my shaft.

30.11.2025

A SPARK OF RECOGNITION AT THE END

In my dream

I mounted and rammed you

and pounded you hard

and the harder I fucked

none closer I was coming,

I was in heaven

and yet in torment

whose relief was yours

to grant or deny.

30.11.2025

15 ARE MORE IMPORTANT 60 000

At least 60 000 people were massacred at El-Fasher,

15 massacred on Bondi Beach,

and the latter, we are told,

demands complete ban on criticism of Israel,

on protests against it,

and the former, nothing

whatsoever, as the identity label put on the victims

marks them unworthy of attention.

17.12.2025

HE THINKS TOO MUCH OF HIMSELF, PERCHANCE

Reading what I have written

in not blind but so clear-eyed lust,

hunger to feel your flesh

embrace mine and quiver

on my arms, I dream and hope

some of these spark desire

that have your hands -

kissed and blessed here -

to do what should be mine

to do; play with yourself

and give the pleasure

you have granted me.

30.11.2025

WALCOTT, WALCOTT

Cowper easy and quickly done,

his river flowing fast to its oceanic

demise brimming from its source,

but Walcott, Walcott

makes me exasperated in the hours

before the coming sunrise that edges

between seen and unseen

in the forecasts of weathermen.

I could throw his green wine

bottle to be carried by that

stream of time that took Cowper

and left his verse, yet

I refuse to acknowledge that the act

of translation is impossible,

still convinced, certain

that metamorphosis will bring

hatching a thing inferior yet close

to that what lived in a brain

that has gone to silence

greater than the one that encases

my existence in this room

curtained to close out the night

before nature's dice cast will

reveal or hide the Sun that shone

when Walcott sat on a beach

in Trinididad and played an oracle,

or the one that was hidden

when Cowper wrote showing

all his cards, evoking nothing.

14.12.2025

RIGHT?

If a German ever murders you

on the positive side

consider than your children,

your grandchildren

and your great-grandchildren

will then have a right to murder people

without being stopped

or being brought to justice

because guilty German conscience

orders so.

07.12.2025

IT'S SHE

In his lust he thinks

he's taking her,

a centaur to her nymph,

but in truth it's she

who mounts and rides

whenever she wills,

and all his lust

is a steed to her desire.

30.11.2025

ONLY RACISTS

Only racists

support Israel

now.

03.12.2025

SEARCH ENGINES ARE TOOLS OF FASCISM

I'm startled when on Startpage,

supposedly away from the clutches

of billionaire Fascists

writing just "Paintings"

brings up the proposal

"Paintings by Adolf Hitler".

Search engines,

like social media platforms,

are tools of Fascism.

06.12.2025

THOSE WHO SUPPORT ISRAEL

Those who support Israel

want to create a world

where genocide

carries no negative consequences

except for the victims.

Are you one of those people?

05.12.2025

WHERE THE WARMTH COMES

He imagines her

wearing those opera pearls,

that smile,

and nothing more.

05.12.2025

SUBJECT MORE WORTHY

Sitting beside my desk,

writing, among tomes,

and a memory evoked,

I imagine you walking

in,

    like in those images,

and I would throw

the pointless books

on the floor

and have you

on their place,

a subject more

worthy than

all their pages.

30.11.2025

MAHMOUD WADI

Half a day after Antonio Guterres

weakly pleaded, without daring

to name Israel, that Palestinian

journalists in Gaza should be allowed

to work in safety, Israel killed you,

Mahmoud, and its hard not to think

that it was a deliberate message

from your murderers.

03.12.2025

ROSES

Translating Keats' sonnet 

about roses

I was reminded

of your secret rose

far more beautiful

than any rose Keats could find

wandering on fields

or in gardens,

and thought how blessed

I was to have been granted

more than nature

and friends granted him.

02.12.2025

LACKING IN HUMANITY

If you don't oppose atrocities,

vocally,

then don't cry

about your own supposed difficulties,

you who think yourself

a model hardworking citizen

yet gaze at slaughter

doing nothing

but demanding compassion

for your own modest problems

while bathing in the lethal

radiation of your indifference.

01.12.2025

AT YOUR CAMP SITE

The summer green

lies fallen at your feet

as late autumn's 

brown leaves

yet from them

unborn spring

will gather strength

and bring back

gestating life.

26.-30.11.2025

NOT BLIND BUT SO CLEAR-EYED LUST

Reading what I have written

in not blind but so clear-eyed lust,

hunger to feel your flesh

embrace mine and quiver

in my arms, I dream and hope

some of these spark desire

that have your hands -

kissed and blessed here -

to do what should be mine

to do; play with yourself

and give the pleasure

you have granted me.

22.11.2025

A PERFECT, HIDDEN ROSE

Here I have only memory

to draw on, yet my memory
has a perfect image
of your hidden rose
here in the dim morning
of the wintry waste
it blooms, enticing,
inviting. 

22.11.2025

HE WISHES

I'm so horny today, 

my dear muse,

that in my visions you have

dropped that pen a hundred times

and each time bending over

I have gripped yout waist firmly -

- just writing I feel my hands

on your flesh -

and slipped inside

(how I wish you could feel now

my thrusting flesh)...

22.11.2025

FITTING ONE OF THE GRACES

I haven't praised

your breasts enough

and here I have two hands

and a mouth eager

to worship them,

tools well adjusted.

to serve on their shrine

with kisses,

tender bites,

and fondling touches

fitting one

of the Graces.

22.11.2025

IT'S THE LUST THAT SAYS

Can't stop thinking about your pussy

today, the things - the acts - I've done

with you in my visions today

you might not belief but would -

I declare - would enjoy. It's not bragging

me who is talking, it's the confident lust

speaking, the lust that says

it would make you scream with pleasure.

22.11.2025

TO PLAY WITH

He will come 

to her sleep a curious,

satyr

and wake her

into another dream

within a dream,

she the nymph

from forest glade

awakening

to his amorous

wishes confirmed

by his offering

firm for her

to touch

and play with.

26.11.2025

THE SNOWS OF NOVEMBER

It ends in rain,

November,

in fine rain,

in fine rain

and silence.

Where are the snows

of yesteryear,

asked Villon,

and where

are the snows of November?

The snows of November

water,

water in the ditches

and the puddles,

water in the unfrozen ground,

on the soaked dead grass

and fallen leaves

drenched

in the snows of November.

30.11.2025