KHULILE NXUMALO
Two Poems For
THar (for Tracey)
Melville
seventh Street
illuminates in a hong kong
popsicle colour
gossipers
rumour
mongers
we are tried
we are tired
spinning tops
joburg city dwellers
on south side of a city
that’s where there
is movement always
and a secret side
to this story
it has led us
many a moonless night
ceremonial as others do
daily facebook ritual
eternity
unending
is another one
of my own calabash shapes
around a note
coming out of a trumpet
red car silver car brown car
i can never remember
as we curve past
westdene dam,
i had the audacity
to whisper to you
reel or unreal
spirits or super
sci-fi and cosmological
characters thunderous
misdemeanors
how it starts
i remember now
how it starts
i am just my part
in a poem inside a cloud
a hologram on
a green screen
grabs
a memorial
a struggle
for the bus
with school children
how it starts, how it gathers
and gathers, all those days
those many heats
of the Sun
that came in
as a fanged
helios
and finally
lays us down as a wreath
along the rusted railway track
II
mess attempts
day, day 390, down below
here in my heart
the valley curves
it’s bottom
and wet end
and here
a fretless
baseline
with such and such
so many strings
that send out
sharp shards
that leave out
of the dj mkhukhu box
that throw dancers
into a brixton ocean
some sing dribble
and shame on the corner
all alone
some are in the crowd
the crowd sings of rivers
sings of enough rain
rains with more kinder
holdings that always
bring on more mothers
some will drive home
some will crash their motorcars into the calabash
fnb stadium of our country’s world cup
here in the south
long wide choirs still screech
at the back
here in the south and here in the looped tunnel of the sabc
i remember
i would always encounter
a golden gnomon
candyfloss many colors
of extra heaven afro hair
locked inside a picture frame
here in the south
a rimmed spectacle teacher
at a gate of a convent
two oliver twist
urchins
in the garden of eden
a black divine mother
arrives back sooner
than it takes for our eyes
to look over and above
the atlantic ocean
at JAG
the floors had not yet gained
such wetter weight
at the universities anthro/
popo/morpho
pology says that they see
us that we are now
looking at us.
The governor and The mayor
(for Phokela)
amaphupho
izinto
ditoro
le dintho
le manaka
a dingaka
tsa di ngoaha ngoaha
ngoaha ngoaha ngoaha this governor and this mayor
run this town
from council
chambers
up above you
on the roof top
in a digital era
it’s fully fledged
glare into
our souls
it has a score, a deep score
and this governor
and this mayor
see nothing wrong
with liking your neighbor
with all the neighbors
that get along
heads facing toward
one direction until
they arrive at a house
they set the lawn alight
a flaming tower
rubs mine and yours and everybody’s skin
a mob rushes there
it gets cloaked and it gets
embellishments
maybe even a new tale
or even a nation’s self gazing
myth, wonders found very far
at the outskirts
a broken heal
also a tail, on a bow
a shrill somewhere
a daily sun headline
rodents as big as your hand
and now the soil even comes down
to the mountain’s feet
it was the governor
who then said
that the queen is dead.
pillow fights
must take place around
a ring of fire
noses bubbled by insolence
cut out
into four small boxes
those who just want to end it all, with a gun to the temple
the clamour
the visions lower
and lower
go dimmer
love and a slowest smile
that comes with the dawn
because it always
does, but then at night
the governor
and the mayor are always ready, like a vehicle
clad in
orange red
silver lined
reflectors, so as
to make
that night a
little brighter
than another
m
a
n
y
m
a
n
y
faces,
like
tonight
you will
see
at times
everything played itself
out backward, at
times a wall that is
stuck
in stasis. millions of
years yet that we
will
reach the farthest corners of this, our strangest century.
Author’s Note
I have spoken to the persons of dedication; they are both fine with being revealed. The work comes from a section in my current manuscript “unfurl” where I recall scenes, encounters and moments of lasting impression from the time when I was living in Melville, Johannesburg. In this case it is with Johannes Phokela and Tracey Rose. Johannes was working on an exhibition at Standard Bank called “i like my neighbours”. Tracey collaborated with me on a Chimurenga video piece about the influence of Staffrider in my development as Creative and Poet. I also spent some time with Tracey when she was working on an exhibition for the Goodman Gallery. The Chimu video is here: