Anti-Kraak

in the new anti-kraak universe you play squatter
upside-down in your brain at parties you proffer

slim handshakes, some modest attempts at dutch
& a determination to stand there all day like a boer

in a landscape where he is indigenous – the white
light shining from his invisibly big head; yet you

fall under the dim star of sleep (where eerie canals
watch you breathe & you stagger from one station

to another – drugged by sundown, watching the big
orange heat ball swinging royally low over the meer

a cardboard world where settlers merrily invade each
other after dinner … you lose a continent over coffee

or else blood-red wijn, a casualty of summer time
where the day & the air & the land are belong to us

4 Replies to “Anti-Kraak”

  1. a little ‘white’ whinge (‘wijn’):-

    hello mr p,

    i wonder how 2 of yr italicised ‘w’s have come to loose their left ear serifs. while reading the poem these words fell somewhat silent.

    love from thankfully wet daylesford,
    the garden

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