Phelelani Makhanya There is a little yellow house at the corner of the street, where the jacaranda has painted the paving purple. Every morning the house appears with a new face. Its walls look untouc
Basil du Toit The rude vegetables are up to no good again, succumbing to irresistible inflations, their growth-tips, tautly congested, full of pregnant suggestion and promise; mutating buds, tinglingl
Ari Sitas After a day of stoning and gas an ancient chore beckons by the ocean’s lip - a crowd heaving, heaving, sifting through the sand for coins A happy bulldozer resting after eating up another ro