None of this self-effacement stuff,

Where the air gets sucked in by the cheeks

And you feel yourself disappearing into the void…

Ha! Dashing across the void!

It’s like a quick flash of the eye and a silencing nod,

Words that are not said are sometimes more reassuring

Than those repeated over and over…

I’m no good at saying goodbye, I do it too often,

The words repetitive of all the goodbyes that came before.

Hollow thoughts dig across time lost in absence,

Like holes left by professional demolitioners,

Holes, deep holes…that just don’t seem to justify tall buildings.

De radio zingt over de liefde.

The radio sings about love.

Life keeps on running away

Het leven loopt weg doorlopend van diegenen

From those we ran away from in the first place…

Van wie wij wegliepen in de eerste plaats…

The radio sings about somebody.

De radio zingt over iemand.

Everybody sounds like the radio.

Iedereen klingt zoals de radio.

Hooked on contact by satellite, leaving

The front door open while the back is securely locked,

A burning desire, words running across the keys

Like wildfire, closeness confused with warmth,

Kisses in space! Smiles that make you cross

To the other side of the world, communication on the spot.

Once

I dreamt

I saw myself in an Old Master’s painting.

The painting refocused,

I saw myself,

Scantily dressed,

For a “Goya” afternoon.

There was Passion,

Not much Affection.

There was Affection,

Not much Sense.

There was Absolute Devotion.

Not much else besides

Being dressed in blue silk,

My mouth mouthing

I want I want I want,

Then,

As if caught

In a rainstorm,

Thunderous colours

Of black, dark brown

And a streak of red.

jeltje