5 Jul 2015


I visited the current William Kentridge installation, showing at the IZIKO National Art Gallery in town on a bright summer's day.

Perhaps it was the at first intimidatingly loud music, the rattling of the machine, or the quietness of the rest of the other exhibits, but when I came home I penned this poem.

Oh, William

investigating the dimly-lit room
of screaming speakers, screens
and a moving machine,

you walked around the room
feeling its sights and sounds

the galloping monster stood
in the middle of the room, 
rumbling, restlessly puffing.

transfixed on your movements,
I watched as you gently deciphered
William Kentridge like a morse code.

you're always look to ideas,
whether murmuring or thundering,  
yet, also, to my whispering mouth

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