The Blue Book

Background Life

Take note
of the music that makes
you hollow, an outline
in the starry night
that winds you between
the bright past,
a thin and tattered veil
caught on points by which we map
what’s real and pretend
like we know where to go from

That was always the point,
the wandering, the random walk,
the wayward,
guardian of a path no-one can take,
no song can sing
bar the music that lights
your hollow heart
as if it were the Dog Star
come with love
to guide you back, burning,
from way beyond the sea.

Through what dreams you’ll waft,
walker of the misty edge
with but one wish
when the time finally comes
to wake up:
bury this heart with a tambotieboom
and drift like ash over the sun.

Always the music
in a background drone,
as if something old and dead
and about to live again
were, for a moment,


Hymn to Freedom

The Celebration Concert

Die Heuwels Fantasties