Little shells


Ik heb de zon geproefd in jouw mond.
Hoe het ontstaan van aarde terugkeert
in de hitte van een oeroude kus.


Ik heb de zon gezien in jouw oog.
Hoe kleine schelpen zee en zand verenigen
op het netvlies van een regenboog.


Ik heb de zon omhelsd, vermomd als jouw lichaam.
Hoe trage handen een ander land toedekken
aan de droomoevers van veilige nachten.


Little shells

I've tasted the sun in your mouth.
How the origins of earth return
in the heat of an ancient kiss.


I've seen the sun in your eye.
How little shells unite sea & sand
on the retina of a rainbow.


I've embraced the sun, disguised as your body.
How slow hands cover another land
at the dream shores of safe nights.

The retina of the sun

* dedicated to David Stone and Mariko Arai *

I've nursed the pain of time in a package,
to be stored in the cupboard of merciful forgetting.
Disarray lingers ajar and from the horn of wrath
memory awakes in the lighthouse.
Shine on, when the iguana meets the snake,
bread tries to disappear (in vain) on frozen seas.

Hunger's nagging is my sweetest-sour friend,
preserves me from the mistake of not-knowing.
History is a lonesome noose in a yielding village.
You can't escape the rain & the doubling of that straining voice.
Just play the heaviness of hips away, she says.
Just try to catch the shadows on the retina of the sun.

Blackbird's unquiet grave is mine, he says.
Don't cry, my soul is only leaking raisins.
Square evil profanes empty cups of light so
the swallow, dear, will never set in the nightingale.
Just forget the heaviness of seeing, she says.
Just try to identify with the retina of the sun.