The biggest lie of art
is that the ego is its creator
I, my conscious self,
am no master in this house
I watch my hands move and place each stroke
like you’d watch a sandwich artist
sprinkling cheese on your toast
So be careful of my ego
for he will take ownership
for all that he inherits
Yet what choice is his
but to accept this fate
for without it
could he be?
the things we do for memories
wall staring at man with guitar
I see you smiling when you’re sad
can you pretend that you don’t
see the amusement of your wistful stares?
you bathe in shallow streams of projections
yet you would never take the leave
to breach your recurring motifs –
for that would make good cinema
and there’s a writer’s strike after all?
As your eyes meet your palms
and your teeth press your lips
a knowing grin mocks your display:
your sincerity is theatrical to no audience
yet I watch you cling to this couch
to be your only witness
which confirms what follows:
you take pleasure in your symptoms
I see you smiling when you’re sad
roddelen op de prinsengracht
wednesdays soon won’t feel like this
passerbys pause
wonder what they’re doing
inbetweeners draped on a sofa
or stepping out for air
and now he’s conscious
hyper-conscious even
that these will be the times
yes – these are the times
how to savor every smoke
while the fire still burns plenty
missing a moment that still persists
the future knows it never had this
he will leave as he must
back inside, he nestles his head
into the cushion’s worn crevice
his eyes sink forward
already a passerby
glancing back again
leaving is a form of staying
You know how it goes
handshakes and embraces
jackets zipped to faces
socks and boots meet their toes
while the conclusive chatter
fades away
on bicycles to
different homes
It’s happened before and it will happen again
people gather then time slips away
I wonder if they know
that each wave brings us closer
to the last time that I’ll say
friend,
it’s been a pleasure
I’ll see you very soon
amsterdam impressions
chatter on a terrace:
amsterdam impression 1
chatter on steps:
amsterdam impression 2
canal light:
amsterdam impression 3
book reading a girl:
amsterdam impression 4
will they won’t they:
amsterdam impression 5
group psychology on stairs:
amsterdam impression 4
the book is no passive thing
acted upon by a reader
the book reads the reader with a predatory delight
It speaks to the reader
pays in stories and facts
and in return gets a kick from seeing them react
So when the reader drifts into daydream
and the words become mere patterns to follow
the book is still there
as it conjured those dreams
guiding the reader in its wandering mind
so the book is lost in you and you lost in it
that’s a nice thing you two have got going there
carefree canals or summer melancholia
