Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Ron Winkler

SECOND URBAN PANNEAU

say over, say under, say city, say what
you’ve seen, say the silvered, mirror-glassed taxis,
that portion the air (some here some there) between
buildings dedicated to building. pretty soon say children,
that, under the supervision of different individuals,
within them hermaphroditic distribution,
have to erase elementary particles. say children look as though
their parents or remaining single-parents
worship Francis Bacon. say Francis Caspar Bacon Kahlo.
say till girls who, during their breaks,
dance in the back rooms of supermarkets
like balinese goddesses without specific
duties. say those involuntary clients
– once victims of impression farmers –, say it to them too.
say that we had symbol-sex
at the north-west star which we also call halfyellowplanet
or called. say that we originate from three
continents at the same time. say that from birth onwards
nearly everybody inhabits a telephone. and doesn’t speak about the quarter
of the celibates. it has the form of an almond. almost
like the park you created within my park, an
überpark into which only a few referential buildings
could reveal a glimpse. can. say the egyptiosus’
communion of prayer that dromedise our being, that
tried. say the lover’s dionysian breasts
in mild summer nights. say autumn minus two towers.
say civil servants, say winter, drawn with canvas on oil.
say we’re coated with digital lacquer. and that
there’s no such thing as angora concrete. only love, arranged in
a blizzard of feelings. and devils for want
of devils. say that after a hundred lectures
in the social assistance office you get one free. say: the clouds
always begin at first in the sky. say: every second
Odysseus holds a siren machine to his ear.
say also ballerinas that one and all are
called Eurydice. because at arterial roads
they caress the windscreens of get-away cars.
because it is thus, because it is determined as such. because it is
that which the sinus side of the present presents.
say that. maybe.

TWEEDE URBANE PANNEAU

zeg over, zeg onder, zeg stad. zeg wat
je gezien hebt, zeg de in spiegelglas gehulde taxi’s
die tussen de aan het bouwen gewijde bouwwerken lucht
heen en weer schuiven. zeg tamelijk snel kinderen
die onder toezicht van over diverse personen
verdeelde hermafrodieten elementaire deeltjes
moeten doven, zeg kinderen die je kunt aanzien
dat hun ouders of de daarvan overgebleven delen
Francis Bacon vereren, zeg Francis Caspar Bacon Kahlo.
zeg de caissières die tijdens hun lunchpauze
in de achterkamers van de supermarkten dansen
als Balinese godinnen zonder nader omschreven
taakomschrijving, zeg de tot onvrijwillige clienten
geworden slachtoffers van de impofarmers. zeg ook
tegen henzelf. zeg dat we symboolseks hadden
bij Sterre Noordwest, ook Halfgeelplaneet genaamd
of ooit zo genoemd, zeg dat we gelijktijdig uit drie
continenten stammen, zeg dat bijna iedereen bij zijn
geboorte een telefoon bewoont en niet over de wijk
van celibatairen spreekt. dat oogt als een amandel. bijna
zoals het park waarin je mijn park hebt aangelegd. een
meer-dan-park dat je vanuit een paar referentiegebouwen.
kon zien. kán. zeg de gebedsgemeenschap
XYZ die geprobeerd had ons te
dromedariseren, zeg de Bacchusborsten van de minnaressen
in zwoele zomernachten. zeg herfst min twee torens.
zeg ambtenaren, zeg winter, met linnen op olie gekwast.
zeg hoe we bedekt zijn met digitale lak. en dat er
geen angora-beton bestaat. slechts liefde, geregeld door
de sneeuw van gevoelens, en duivels bij gebrek
aan duivels. zeg dat je na honderd colleges bij de
sociale dienst één gratis entree krijgt. zeg: de wolken
beginnen altijd eerst in de lucht. zeg: Odysseus en
alleman houdt een sirenemachine tegen zijn oor.
zeg ook de ballerina’s die als geheel en stuk voor stuk
Eurydike heten omdat ze bij de uitvalswegen
de ruiten van de vluchtauto’s strelen.
omdat het zo is. omdat het zo gedetermineerd is. omdat het
de sinuszijde van het heden toont. zeg dat. misschien.

ZWEITES URBANES PANNEAU

sag über, sag unter, sag Stadt. sag, was
du gesehen hast. sag die rundum verspiegelten Taxis,
die zwischen dem Bauen gewidmeten Bauten hin
und her Luft verschieben. sag ziemlich schnell Kinder,
die unter Aufsicht von auf verschiedene Personen
verteilten Hermaphroditen Elementarteilchen
zu löschen haben. sag Kinder, denen man ansieht,
dass ihre Eltern oder übrig gebliebenen Elternteile
Francis Bacon verehren. sag Francis Caspar Bacon Kahlo.
sag die Kassiererinnen, die während ihrer Pausen
in den Hinterzimmern der Supermärkte tanzen
wie balinesische Göttinnen ohne näher spezifizierten
Aufgabenbereich. sag die zu unfreiwilligen Klienten
gewordenen Opfer der Eindrucksfarmer. sag sie auch zu
ihnen selbst. sag, dass wir Symbolsex hatten
am Nordweststern, den man auch Halbgelbplanet nennt
oder nannte. sag, dass wir gleichzeitig aus drei
Kontinenten stammen. sag, dass fast jeder von Geburt
an ein Telefon bewohnt. und nicht über das Viertel
der Zölibanten spricht. das eine Mandelform hat. fast
wie der Park, den du in meinem Park angelegt hast. ein
Überpark, in den man nur von wenigen Referenzgebäuden
aus blicken konnte. kann. sag die Gebetsgemeinschaft
XYZ, die unser Sein zu dromedarisieren
versuchte. sag die Bacchusbrüste der Geliebten
in lauen Sommernächten. sag Herbst minus zwei Türme.
sag Beamte, sag Winter, mit Leinwand auf Öl gemalt.
sag, wie wir überzogen sind von Digitallack. und dass
es keinen Angora-Beton gibt. nur Liebe, geregelt durch
den Schnee der Gefühle. und Teufel, aus Mangel
an Teufeln. sag, dass man nach hundert Vorlesungen
im Sozialamt einen Besuch gratis erhält. sag: die Wolken
beginnen immer zuerst am Himmel. sag: jeder zweite
Odysseus hält sich eine Sirenenmaschine ans Ohr.
sag auch die Ballerinen, die insgesamt und einzeln alle
Eurydike heißen. weil sie an den Ausfallstraßen
die Fensterscheiben der Fluchtfahrzeuge streicheln.
weil es so ist. weil es so determiniert ist. weil das die
Sinusseite der Gegenwart zeigt. sag das. vielleicht.
Close

SECOND URBAN PANNEAU

say over, say under, say city, say what
you’ve seen, say the silvered, mirror-glassed taxis,
that portion the air (some here some there) between
buildings dedicated to building. pretty soon say children,
that, under the supervision of different individuals,
within them hermaphroditic distribution,
have to erase elementary particles. say children look as though
their parents or remaining single-parents
worship Francis Bacon. say Francis Caspar Bacon Kahlo.
say till girls who, during their breaks,
dance in the back rooms of supermarkets
like balinese goddesses without specific
duties. say those involuntary clients
– once victims of impression farmers –, say it to them too.
say that we had symbol-sex
at the north-west star which we also call halfyellowplanet
or called. say that we originate from three
continents at the same time. say that from birth onwards
nearly everybody inhabits a telephone. and doesn’t speak about the quarter
of the celibates. it has the form of an almond. almost
like the park you created within my park, an
überpark into which only a few referential buildings
could reveal a glimpse. can. say the egyptiosus’
communion of prayer that dromedise our being, that
tried. say the lover’s dionysian breasts
in mild summer nights. say autumn minus two towers.
say civil servants, say winter, drawn with canvas on oil.
say we’re coated with digital lacquer. and that
there’s no such thing as angora concrete. only love, arranged in
a blizzard of feelings. and devils for want
of devils. say that after a hundred lectures
in the social assistance office you get one free. say: the clouds
always begin at first in the sky. say: every second
Odysseus holds a siren machine to his ear.
say also ballerinas that one and all are
called Eurydice. because at arterial roads
they caress the windscreens of get-away cars.
because it is thus, because it is determined as such. because it is
that which the sinus side of the present presents.
say that. maybe.

SECOND URBAN PANNEAU

say over, say under, say city, say what
you’ve seen, say the silvered, mirror-glassed taxis,
that portion the air (some here some there) between
buildings dedicated to building. pretty soon say children,
that, under the supervision of different individuals,
within them hermaphroditic distribution,
have to erase elementary particles. say children look as though
their parents or remaining single-parents
worship Francis Bacon. say Francis Caspar Bacon Kahlo.
say till girls who, during their breaks,
dance in the back rooms of supermarkets
like balinese goddesses without specific
duties. say those involuntary clients
– once victims of impression farmers –, say it to them too.
say that we had symbol-sex
at the north-west star which we also call halfyellowplanet
or called. say that we originate from three
continents at the same time. say that from birth onwards
nearly everybody inhabits a telephone. and doesn’t speak about the quarter
of the celibates. it has the form of an almond. almost
like the park you created within my park, an
überpark into which only a few referential buildings
could reveal a glimpse. can. say the egyptiosus’
communion of prayer that dromedise our being, that
tried. say the lover’s dionysian breasts
in mild summer nights. say autumn minus two towers.
say civil servants, say winter, drawn with canvas on oil.
say we’re coated with digital lacquer. and that
there’s no such thing as angora concrete. only love, arranged in
a blizzard of feelings. and devils for want
of devils. say that after a hundred lectures
in the social assistance office you get one free. say: the clouds
always begin at first in the sky. say: every second
Odysseus holds a siren machine to his ear.
say also ballerinas that one and all are
called Eurydice. because at arterial roads
they caress the windscreens of get-away cars.
because it is thus, because it is determined as such. because it is
that which the sinus side of the present presents.
say that. maybe.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère