In poems I preserve what really moves and inspires me and what gives me courage.
Olga van Trigt has provided them with a delicate and sensitive translation.
the pen connects
poet and paper
transforming
ink to words
like strings
from mystery
2002
*
the colour-room
where being stirs
has no glass
no door
no hole in floor
and certainly no roof
being stirs
becomes
frees itself
as butterfly
2003
*
what more is left to say
if legs refuse to walk
if rigid hands refuse to work
if feet lose touch with ground
and heads turn into strainers
what more is left to ask
if lamed and paralysed
one is too late to be in time
what more is left to want
if ears can hear no more
and eyes see foreign distances
yes, who will give words
to primal need and scream
of love me as I am
and then respond
straight from the heart
2003
*
eating
at table eating bread and writing
I felt his eyes on me red hot
disturbed I sought and found the spot
where I was challenged without fighting
a buzzard wanted me to know
I see you from my own position
I want to show my feat of demolition
before I spread my wings to go
shaking out the tablecloth I saw
the feathers of a dove and seeds
her last meal scattered on the ground
the bird that felt the fateful claw
had satisfied the buzzard's needs
life-transformation had been found
2004
*
feather force
feathers come loose
as secret messengers
of all that's going on
come
collect these feathers
read the edges
and the down
put into words and poems
fertilize the flight
beloved bird
through air and water
wonderful ways light up the path
to your paper home
take wing
shaman
take wing
2004
*
my garden gave me a small stone
I saw an H an A
a face beside a face
an old footprint
an elephant and on his head
a baboon watching over pi
the Scream and the Madonna
the coalman’s right eye
as the glass for buzzard dove and cat
for snail and omega
a swaddled baby and the child
the passage for an owl
that winks his eye to eight
a joyful throng that sings a song
for lamb with ears of butterfly
a frog that sits upon a stone
and merrily croacks along
I kiss the frog's mouth shut
and thus meet Jofiel
then suddenly I find
my garden in the stone
2005
*
tears shake loose
the fixed attachment
to the literal
in Gaia's womb
all drops combine
to form a flow
swelling the well
in the carbonized black pit
the flow of tears
grows, foams
and fills the vale
creates a soul-flow
banks can find
bridging abysses of the mind
and leaving all that's black behind
mirror to the moon
paper boats
that carry names
set out for the gate
to be refolding
so fly free, be glad
no Styx, just Thee
this child of you and me
babies shake free
the fixed attachment
to the fold
2005
*
for those who think
through web
of frail imagination
they make new images
they put in words
they sense connection
in primeval knowing
they grope, they taste
they dig, they delve
collecting fuel
from forgotten depths
black is the mineral
prepared to burn
not hell
but love hands out
the thin invisible
tissue weaves
connection
out of paths
2005
*
a new beginning
from the centre
movements comes
point on circle
to cross over
into mirroring loop
starting-point from void
makes action free
at intersection
of the eight
infinite
formed in point
beyond the end
2005
*
fields are fixed
generations ploughing on
in ancient tracks
fields accept
their fixed divisions
join in common core
fields are now expectant
corn calmly germinates
and grows to swaying
fields are signalling
it is the team brings in the crop
and weaves it into loaves
2006
*
blessing from the sky
one Sunday afternoon
heaven sends reply
bird as messenger
with crust of bread
as food from monads
last supper
panoramic final point
opens wide perspective
images abundantly
come inside fermenting
making wine to drink
2006
*
flight up to heaven
violently shakes all fixed grounds
nothing left unmoved
buckling knees give way
work ground loose unfixing all
support earth below
action creates shrine
built on pillars of deep trust
flames are dancing high
the past divulges
all disguises disappear
birds climb up the sky
fathom what
supports
2007
*
through endless washing
child of fine arts slips away
from sterile being
old sewer system
in which bathwater ends up
empowers baby
innerstairs disclose
light peeks out into the world
manhole cover moves
hands pushing aside
iron bolts of lid of top
Child climbs onto ledge
31-12-2007
*
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