Roads by Kobus Kotze - CommuniTAY Poetry Project header image

Roads by Kobus Kotze - CommuniTAY Poetry Project

by The Tay Ho Times on 18/04/2021

Roads by Kobus Kotze

Let us take the roads 
that lead to junkyards in countries    
we have never known to exist
Let us take the roads
Let us drive it down there where 
the engines and the screams of car guts 
reach out
to the spaces inside of our ominous and 
overtly obese obsessions with 
movement and place

Let us take the time to remember 
all the ordinary beautiful days 
when the rubber slipped & iron screamed
& wires in the tires split open the 
tranquility of suburban lawns  
with a suddenness and sound 
much like the sweet sweet noise of 
falling in love on a nothing nowhere day
Or would you rather choose to walk the wire 
to somewhere elsewhere 
knowing it to be there where wide eyed owls 
tilt their necks 
up high
 on wooden beams inside barns on farms
and there where cat’s paws on white winter sheets 
leave signs of a more or lesser 
distance between 
our bewilderment of sorts 
and sanguine simpler days?

Let us take the roads to the burning grass fields
 in autumn to remind us 
of all the times spend on family trips with drunken dads
 and yearning mothers 
in four door sedan motors 
blending the shackles of our identities
and the irony of youth within the beauty 
of having only fragmented memories left

Like when we were within a time where there were 
suggestions of rivers and ravines in  
the movements of our blind tongue sounds 
looking for magnificent magnitude within the shapes our 
hands make when tearing open tangerines 
or figs or plastic wrappings around 
flightless dead birds on
balmy summer nights

We can, of course, take the barely marked meandering moss trails
towards a more personal understanding 
of our supposed future stories as well

Suggesting that I might like to invent folk tales to tell to you
 about the beauty of an age old  
ghost in a river I once saw with eyes closed and 
oh the little blue roads that formed
under her skin like rivers on roadmaps 
locked inside a library where it has never rained :::::::

Or maybe we must take the path that
reminds us of bending trees and creeks in smaller towns
 in countries that do exist 
and go there where we will willingly wander 
towards older buildings and after the shadows 
of dogs on street corners
hand in hand 
my dearest darkest ever elusive lover

We will move slower then in this curved up
cancer canopy of sorts and I will be folding up 
within you like a star or a planet 
or an orange fox sleeping in the dessert snow

Or, for now, let us choose to walk 
to the less direct byways of thought 
to the miniature mountains on asphalt roads 
where you
look real close to see 
there where the liquids of animals and cars and mist flow 
through the small rock cracks like rivers on
maps in places where we have dreamt of one day being in

And if not so, we will adapt and we will make boorish beacon fires
with wet wood and dying trees and we will pack little 
temples of stone to remember that
we were once at this imagined place 

I would whistle in the wind like a flightless winged bird
and stand and watch the sound of it die under little brushes 
next to the road
But only after we make our tongues in the shapes of leaves 
curling up in the autumn sun.