<

BLOSSOM GUM

this is what I came across today

two fork tines, nine dog ends
in amongst the wall grass, half a bar code
how rain fell into a fountain and something
that I would later define as blossom gum
walked along a few blocks under shoes
the enchantment of a thumb and forefinger
still palpable in a pinch of tobacco
a new housing estate erupting like milk teeth
from the sand, a deflated 8 (or the sign for infinity)

fragments of lives are gathered in my bag

on the way to the hereafter, in graves they found
tiny hoes, a comb, a blue-print
of a face, to be hammered out on arrival

in this life, I spend every day cleaning up faces into emoticons
sending my questions through the nine stomachs of Google

learning that there are buildings designed with the ruins they will become in mind
that discovering once meant removing your hat

I put things into words, bags that are too small




original: bloesemplak

FROM: VELDWERK, 2020 (QUERIDO, AMSTERDAM)

TRANSLATED BY ROSALIND BUCK

FOR POETRY INTERNATIONAL 2021#

listen to the sound file