Poetry

December 18, 2018

The Poet

Through the propriety Of the gaps Between you and the rooftops A rhythm of emptiness You challenge knowledge Graphemes bouncing back and forth Highlighting trajectories of cognition A step into the wilderness Of a broken promise Of a man lost Erasing established notions of a city Rooftops covered in snow White upon white Like water upon water Breath after breath
December 18, 2018

Productivity

Distraction by distraction we live in the daily aftermath —– of the grand burlesque; —– an ever diminishing step behind each fresh wave of horror and a Kardashian ass —– tugging nuance — to the undercurrent, as I tug idly at the screen— siphoning from the great gushing pool —– of hyperbole — my top-up of shame.
December 18, 2018

Converting to Dataism

1/ The End of a Beginning Given  each organism  as a biochemical  algorithm Your life       is a programmed       process proving ——–Your consciousness   is actually far less Valuable       than a fucking       Frankenstein’s AI 2/ The Beginning of an End Through       human-computer interface My mind has become       part of       a robot ——–While the robot       part of me As       […]
December 18, 2018

Nuance of Damage

I. Hope is faster than light, its speed beyond measure. It’s alive, today, but what about tomorrow? Easy come, easy… I need something to build up my courage. One advantage is sleep, an endurance test: a locomotive or a pillow. We learn to calculate the commotion; suck the straw, hang out, hit the hay. Who’s to say? One cedes territory, one establishes boundaries, one signs along the […]
December 18, 2018

Country Music in the MRI Machine

The technician who curates this capsule in her cameo as the ground station engineer, asks if country music would be ok to play over the headphones, and I tell her that would be fine, before I’m slid inside the chamber to be shot off to some unknown diagnosis; to land, perhaps, on the surface of a strange world of procedures, treatments, and consultations. I’ve agreed to […]
December 18, 2018

Selective Communication

If you call, you’ll get my machine. If I’m not in the bath soaking aches, matching wits with a wily crossword compiler or on the loo revising wasted days, the lightning speed of the past – or outside rejoicing at distant snow on summits, walking a light-bathed terrain of eucalyptus scent, a memory trail of children grown, dogs long dead; I might pick up, but don’t bother calling […]
December 18, 2018

Elsewhere

We all know it’s a flat country, but far South-East Amsterdam is so flat, low and expectant, like a work table, I get curious. You can see any movement from a distance here. The people are children, flitting in the corners. One stares at me over his shoulder. Herons loom over many tamed waterways, one at each corner of the caved-in river necks, still water stitched […]
December 18, 2018

Circles

What was it again? The stories from the back of the room no longer silent. The slight person standing had that pearlescent skin, wet stone under loud moonlight. Something else fell. This time from the front – a piece of brick or stone or something that was too fragile to begin with anyway. Now throw the ball to me, yes to me. Three loud slaps on the […]
May 22, 2018

Sex After Sixty

There’s this loud grunt when he comes. In different circumstances, it might bring rescue vehicles, but for now it’s pleasure. It just comes with a long, near heart-stopping strain, that’s all. It’s like when he suffered from that clogged bowel or the barrage of needles during gum surgery. It’s not his fault that temple-tightening times come to mind when he falls off his wife. It’s all […]