The fences have fallen -
cut by the wants of the divine;
satiating and soiling
in the nothingness of freedom.
She watched them wander
despite his sweating displeasure,
caring instead for the idle taste
of his doubts and her sweet,
She toasted the land, and her love -
and her folly for certain
kind of thirsts.
W.S. Vun; 2006
She wanted to lie down next to me.
I said she ought to know there were no chances;
she took hers.
I remember this silent night
in my flat
up the Plantation Shop
was her name
she once met the Native
and shared his wrath
against the wall
that went up
Andy and Paul
were cutting plants,
tidying the shop,
When she went downstairs
she helped herself with a cup of coffee
the smell of it filled up the kitchen.
I let her go
I had to
she had to go
and there were no
The Native would come back shortly after.
He had been out all night.
Staring at the sky,
talking to the moon,
to the stars,
his fingers touching the darkest patch of the ethereal net
He entered the room
I was still lying on my bed.
He lied next to me.
The wine vapours still lingered in his hair,
on his clothes, on his pale skin.
I touched his back.
He said I ought to know there were no chances;
I got up
and went to work.
First published in Aesthetica Magazine – UK
What happened to Elmer?
In our dreary costal town, Elmer, the boy with a wooden leg;
was the beacon in a townscape uniformly grey. Irreverent he
was singing and joking his way through the town he seemed
to be everywhere at once. We loved Elmer:” Did you hear
what Elmer did and what he said to the chief of the police?”
Then one day he wasn’t there: “Where’s Elmer?” his urchin
face was greatly missed especially by us kids. But time was
moving forward, or is it us that walk forward till we find, on
the desert of time, our individual exit sign? My uncle had
bought a car and even mother looked up from the book she
was reading and came to the window
Years, later when station in a garrison town, I saw Elmer in
the street, he had a proper artificial leg now, so good that he
only had a slight limp, but his gamin face was almost the same.
“Hi Elmer, do you remember me? He did, we shook hands.
He told me he had a good job here and he had also found Jesus
who had saved him from the wicked life he had lived.
I looked into his eyes; they were filled with blandness, Elmer,
the boy had left ok, in front of me stood a thin little man in hat.
I never spoke to him again but saw him often sauntering along
evening empty streets always at a distant walking away from
me, disappearing back to my childhood.
Only in our world of unrestrained freedom
And middle class lunacy, do we let farmers
Plant sugar cane fields to make fuel for our
Costly cars, instead feeding the starving
With high cost of rice
The poor face great hardship
But it’s not all gloom
A pair of solid Chinese boots
Is still within their budget.