an omniscient conscience amuses itself
a void demanding filling,
worlds are opened
composers, artists and clowns to
around with all that’s not there
an attempt to comfort the vacuum.
are those who fill it with
and blues; those who fill it
landscapes and cubes; or those who fill it
the wanderings of hallucinogenics.
are those who open themselves
the nothing allowing it to fill them,
with consonants and vowels
nothing composes itself
a void-filler that moves
and phrases to the musician,
and shades to the artist,
voice to the orator and
are the poets.
in Peterborough, Ontario, raised and spent most of her life in
South Africa. She has travelled extensively throughout Africa
on business, as a journalist and always a poet. Lived in
Cambodia for two years where she built a children’s home
and school, and since 2009 has been travelling the world attempting
to make sense of it through words.