So she was another man and killed himself
loved to be a maggot stuffed with lies
of her better half his own spectre of starvation

I’ld love to be in the country
so I could for the city yearn

Slithering through sewers from drain to cesspool
she conducted all his gaping gaps to twat & slut
left her other third in the results of a smelly education

Oh to be where the city runs
shiny goblets of rustic gnomes

 

 

 

 

 

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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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