In The Year 5963

 

In the year 5963
the moon polishes her cheeks along the hills
and all from the generous soil arise the houses
the beasts the swimmers the children
shake the sand from their hair
and the houses the houses they grow and sleep
oversleep in the patient grass

In the year 5963
the houses regain wings
the women bear laundry again
for their men their sons on all sides
we save stamp upon stamp
for the clumsy walls
that shake loose from their
dull-&-dumb dreams

In the year 5963
the dunes brood on cattle
children hit the calm
in the fingers and fins of the
immeasurable day

In the year 5963
the birds walk on stilts
water and earth are free to go as they want
seldom now the black box is consulted
wherein your fiends so often hide
as we pass

In the year 5963
even the sun
sticks to the constitution
the digger unearths the manuscript
of all what is primitive, prehistorical and precipice
while the whale ponders on his brandnew paws

A once covered distance
will never be repeated
nor nowhere forgotten

And whatever they say and write
all over everywhere sings the sea

 

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Adriaan Krabbendam (Tunis, 1955) is antiquary, profound sleeper, doctor of the unknown, coachman of relations between the chthonic and the restricted human role in disasters, beachcomber laureate, firm simpleton, now and at the hour of our death, factotum of cities and landscapes, world without end

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