Hidden trees

for the Tawny Owls

Where the wind keeps
the trees hidden
in the grasses
and the people walk
the thick lines
of the horizons
in their eyes
you'll sing
the seal song,
forget the festivals
and wrap the blanket
of your solid soul around
your softened body

No people staring at you,
I promise
No language but
bird language
third eye contact
clouds' rain rumours

No real people dying
in real gutters
Hardly people really

Tides not times
to play with.

Lost and found

I've walked
I've been at the losts
I've been at the founds
The taste of cold coffee
is as familiar to my tongue
as that of sparkling wine
The ugly smell of old sweat
in my backpack
a sweet companion
on the road
to unplanned encounters
in unknown though
fluently spoken languages
laughing out loud and childlessly
exiting rattling to-do-lists
which steal your friends,
your sleep, and your capacity
to go into the woods,
light a fire and read
the book of its flames -
there are phoenixes out there
who guide your delays,
your missed connections
- making you feel zen
and murderous -
your endless journeys
only to arrive
at the next
there is as much meaning
in the tracks of the railroad
as in the tracks
of the buzzard
the top fell of its mountain
the knowing has arrived

Vlaanderen

Ik groet u, Vlaanderen

uw kubistische koterijen,

uw timiditeit,

uw frauderen zonder franje,

uw maisakkers,

vol verschraalde zompigheid,

uw was,

wapperend of wegrottend

op uw erven,

kleren zonder gekromde lijven,

uw coureurs,

uw kasseien,

uw glooiingen,

uw eigendommen,

uw talent voor taal,

knotwilgen,

uw ochtendspits,

uw kotstudenten,

uw schoon madammen,

uw goesting,

uw vlaamsgeblokte alliantie,

uw grijze groezeligheid,

uw zachte g,

die hier en daar h wordt,

uw bange volk

-wee waal moslim of vrijbuiter-

dat veilig belegt op

banken en boterhammen,

dat berekend op de Lotto speelt

terwijl het nog wat pinken in de lucht steekt

aan de toog,

dat weet dat ge op één been

niet kunt staan,

dat omvalt van bravigheid en koffietafels,

van diepgang en de nieuwste griepepidemie,

wat als ik u nu eens van uw bakstenen beroof?