beeld erger tekst

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there’s no comfort elsewhere


certain words creating melodies creating harmony


a lot of undefinable river weed (what’s that?)


2,5 million clouds passing by with no car no noise


4 million poems concerning real meaningful content in musically wrapped metaphors with no emphasis and a lot of scattered Sap Ph O


dentists pronouncing terrible future happenings


lists in alphabetical order of books one should read before death strikes the hour


goddess-like ladies gossiping in line and comparing volumes and inner space


question marks where it should be full stops or exclamation marks or sheer exclamation


unreliable fishes


the bubbling of birth


poetry nothing but poetry


non-existing colors exterminated but saved nonetheless


itch in my eyes concerning nobody in particular


hatred of any ideology


at swim-two-birds


crime as creamy as crimson


every army is deemed to fail


there’s only this and here and now


space is the female body


striking encounters of the third kind


useless lists


sudden stone buddha’s among the weeds


studio clouds overhead and underneath, all on canvas or up there


hangmen in the dark


all shades of green and green like green from green as green as green can be




image by Max Ernst, La femme 100 têtes


some chickens survived, but not for long


watching without thinking


thinking without watching


several species of man-made creatures


the way the moon reappears suddenly in due time as she used to do


all the tired horses


seven dead cars and not even oldtimers


she came in through the bathroom window


examining windfall and haze


you try the rope and it holds


drink your yoghurt and stay firm


religion is the way of escaping reality and denying bodily facts


ignore this


level with the one you’re with


it’s certainly a nice running machine


can i have your picture naked?


some edifices don’t work properly, never will


i’m a monk and stay that way


nevertheless the stars, the countless stars


my kitchen is famous


if you tell me a lie, tell me a black lie, don’t tell me a white lie


do you like this garden?


stealth is a certain curtain


i don’t recognize this schoolyard anymore


and the wind cries mary



Door Adriaan Krabbendam

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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