The night sky is my skin
And my lover the stars
Clinging to me with ease

The deep dark ocean
Screams back at us
Stories of black lovers
Chained to each other
Loving each other in death

The dark room is my heart
And my lover,the flickering candle
filling me with light

The black love
Shared amongst black lovers
Is held together by stories too scared
to tell themselves


Black Lovers ©Quaz Roodt


*This poem was requested by my brother ,Marcio Januario, during our “Poem take away” session in Rio de Janeiro. Written and read right there.




THE POET’S OWN SPIT: Retrieving the archive of Wopko Jensma is a discussion between Bronwyn Law-Viljoen and Richard Quaz Roodt for The Johannesburg Workshop in Theory and Criticism (under the umbrella of WISER) and the Seminar in Experimental Critical Theory (UCHRI) .Filmed in Mbabane, Swaziland (2 July 2014)