Feral in the Free State

I have loved Verkykerskop since I first stumbled upon it and visited as often as I can. I wrote Verkykerskop in 2012 and Back at Binocular Hill the next year – if you are interested. I was there this week to say goodbye to the marvels as they move on to new adventures. Many will miss the utterly unique space Beth Hilary and Matt Hoffman created. I wrote this poem while the sun rose through rusty railings, balaclava-clad men set off for work and the cattle called plaintively.

Puss in Boots

huddled beside Binocular Hill

gumtrees whisper

stories of strawberries and sidecars

septic tanks and stolen cigarettes

where a collection of curiosities collide

the Kewpie Doll is black

Trechikoff clings glumly to the walls

and Marilyn is definitely naked

Tippex stretches on the stone step

Beth smokes on the sun-drenched bench

Matt drives off to buy onions

the top cop orders Russians to go

the morning star beckons the persimmon skies

cold sun shafts through charcoal clouds

a MoSotho man implores one to drink more tea

bikers have breakfast with beer

white bakkies clatter through the hills

dusty wire fences the road

suddenly it is Verkykerskop

will they slow? oh no

sunday tables sag with boerewors and beans

spinach is piled onto pizza

curious travellers linger a while longer

then depart replete with intrigue

r a scrap car petrol pump verkykerskop