Drie gedichten
Execution
Eating
a sober lunch of rye bread with peanut butter, the UD spins
his
ergonomically sound chair towards the window and for inspiration
searches
outside, for the cast iron sculpture’s newly moved blue bolted prow.
His gaze pans
past
pond towards TiasNimbas and the proud ship of knowledge. He sees
it has
been given the second chance it deserves. He reflects
on
Tilburg’s murdered maple - no reprieve there; the saw’s buzz still
echoes
so he
will join the protest at four the following day, though he knows
he
would never chain himself to a tree, and of anthropomorphism he
disapproves.
His
swiss cheese plant, the office’s own groene oase, spills
over
papers and pens, his desk’s organized chaos, forms
a
higgledy-piggledy mini-jungle, defies
the
consensus of grey furniture. If he uproots
this
palm, the room’s uniformity triumphs
but it
will suffer no herinrichting like the vijfsprong. The
thesis he is editing needs
trimming, thinning; his plant he will always spare. It is paragraphs
he sentences
to
cuts, and with mighty pen slashes.
Now
he’s digested brown bread and dangling participles, he turns
to the
production of his own paper, the tree he daily drip feeds
with
data, nourishes with sources, in readiness for when he prunes,
fine-tunes
and
eventually publishes.
He
begins.
october eyes
lost
glove gathering dew dropped on a bench
by
Dante
fat
green wheelie bin squatting out of sight
by
Simon
oak and
beech leaves tube-blown to a mountain
by
Olympia
*
exam
room scholar heads bowed over paper hair hanging
(innocent like sleeping children)
inside
Cobbenhagen
window
cleaners wielding telescopic squeegees
(as if
washing an elephant)
outside
Warande
*
cyclists
teeth
gritted
iPods
humming
bent
forward
coming
along windy routes
Clipper
Square ... Pious Street ... Hill Street ... New Country Street
Red
Cycle Path
Red
Cycle Path
Red
Cycle Path
Red
Cycle Path
Red
Cycle Path
Red
Cycle Path
Red
Cycle Path
Red
Cycle Path
ignore them at your
peril
capital
café
consumed with nervous energy
customers acting roles
performing their drinking
hamming
it up
for the
sake of hapjes
you
resisted
though
you leaned in pretending to be part
of this
ritual
i kept
all the palaver at bay
with my
ears and leant in close
to
softly intone a feeling or two to you
and
then i knew i wanted us to be full
participants
