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Antjie Krog has described her poetry as "presenting a haunting museum constructed in [...] delicate tone and vivid poetic intelligence."
- Words are such thin shavings of the fractal fruit,
tiny scraping of the skin that holds
these joyously determined swirls of history
inside their juicy turbulence.
Talking itself westward after the day's feast,
each little word with its meaning strapped to its back
falls down the swell of tomorrow
like a hiker with hopeful new shoes.
- Purposefully peeling footsteps (Home, 2000)