Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Ron Winkler

SOMNIA

a few images I got tangled in: heavenly bodies that radiated
significance almost performatively. aching gods,
their clenched fists red
like mouth cavities in the hands of catarrh. meteorite merchants
who, to widen their horizons, spent afternoons
in psychotomography and improvised songs
on the basis of the protocols. and attended exhibitions
where they could practice new forms of petting.
abstract dreams about the era of Papillon architecture.
Peruvian women (Mao ascendent) who wanted to make a Peru
out of Peru. protodidacts with beards
like declarations of love for the English lawn,
the American front yard, Scandinavian moss, they awakened
a sense of being plucked right out of time.
shadows of shadows of their own. dreams. gallerinas
in the same line of work as the ones who brought the grandmothers’
swans to completion. in forests
filled with the exhaust of dreams, in which I
drove down hundred-lane paths from atheism
to Eden. flanked
by anti-dreamers, who were glad to have gotten themselves lost
in the uniqueness of uniformity. and who crackled
or emitted a feeble light
like wonderful words. they glanced at the ground
as if someone had robbed them of their avatars.
for a long time before I woke up, it snowed
air.

SOMNIA

een paar beelden waarin ik verdwaalde: hemellichamen, die haast performatief
betekenis afstraalden, pijnlijke goden,
hun gebalde vuisten rood
als mondholtes, in de verkouden hand, meteorietenhandelaren
die om hun horizon te verbreden halve dagen
in psychotomografen doorbrachten en op basis van de verslagen
liederen improviseerden en beurzen bezochten
waar nieuwe vormen van streling te beleven waren.
abstracte dromen over het Tijdperk van de Papillonarchitectuur.
Peruaansen (ascendant Mao) die van Peru
een Peru wilden maken. protodidacten met baarden
als liefdesverklaringen aan Engelse gazons,
Amerikaanse voortuintjes, Scandinavisch mos, ze wekten
de indruk uit de tijd geplukt te zijn.
schaduwen van schaduwen van zichzelf. Gallerina’s
uit het gilde van hen die grootmoeders zwanen
tot voltooiing brachten, in bossen
vol emissies van dromen, waarin ik
op honderdbaanssnelwegen van atheïsme
naar Eden liep, geflankeerd
door tegendromen die zichzelf verzaligd in de eenmaligheid
van de uniformiteit verloren hadden en knisperden
of een zwak licht verspreidden
als prachtige woorden, ze keken naar de grond
alsof men hen van hun avatars beroofd had.
voor ik ontwaakte, sneeuwde het lange tijd
lucht.

SOMNIA

einige Bilder, in die ich geriet: Himmelskörper, die fast performativ
Bedeutung abstrahlten. schmerzhafte Götter,
ihre geballten Fäuste rot
wie Mundhöhlen in der Hand von Katarrh. Meteoritenhändler,
die, um ihren Horizont zu erweitern, halbe Tage
in Psychotomografen verbrachten und auf Basis der Protokolle
Lieder improvisierten. und Messen besuchten,
auf denen neue Formen des Streichelns zu erleben waren.
abstrakte Träume über das Zeitalter der Papillonarchitektur.
Peruanerinnen (Aszendent Mao), die aus Peru
ein Peru machen wollten. Protodidakten mit Bärten
wie Liebeserklärungen an englischen Rasen,
amerikanische Vorgärten, skandinavisches Moos, sie erweckten
den Eindruck, aus der Zeit gezupft worden zu sein.
Schatten der Schatten ihrer selbst. Träume. Gallerinas
aus dem Metier derer, die die Schwäne der Großmütter
zur Vollendung brachten. in Wäldern
voller Emissionen von Träumen, in denen ich
auf hundertspurigen Wegen von Atheismus
nach Eden lief. flankiert
von Gegenträumern, die sich glücklich in der Einzigartigkeit
der Uniformität verloren hatten. und knisterten
oder ein schwaches Licht verströmten
wie wunderschöne Wörter. sie blickten zu Boden,
als hätte man ihnen die Avatare geraubt.
bevor ich aufwachte, schneite es lange Zeit
Luft.
Close

SOMNIA

a few images I got tangled in: heavenly bodies that radiated
significance almost performatively. aching gods,
their clenched fists red
like mouth cavities in the hands of catarrh. meteorite merchants
who, to widen their horizons, spent afternoons
in psychotomography and improvised songs
on the basis of the protocols. and attended exhibitions
where they could practice new forms of petting.
abstract dreams about the era of Papillon architecture.
Peruvian women (Mao ascendent) who wanted to make a Peru
out of Peru. protodidacts with beards
like declarations of love for the English lawn,
the American front yard, Scandinavian moss, they awakened
a sense of being plucked right out of time.
shadows of shadows of their own. dreams. gallerinas
in the same line of work as the ones who brought the grandmothers’
swans to completion. in forests
filled with the exhaust of dreams, in which I
drove down hundred-lane paths from atheism
to Eden. flanked
by anti-dreamers, who were glad to have gotten themselves lost
in the uniqueness of uniformity. and who crackled
or emitted a feeble light
like wonderful words. they glanced at the ground
as if someone had robbed them of their avatars.
for a long time before I woke up, it snowed
air.

SOMNIA

a few images I got tangled in: heavenly bodies that radiated
significance almost performatively. aching gods,
their clenched fists red
like mouth cavities in the hands of catarrh. meteorite merchants
who, to widen their horizons, spent afternoons
in psychotomography and improvised songs
on the basis of the protocols. and attended exhibitions
where they could practice new forms of petting.
abstract dreams about the era of Papillon architecture.
Peruvian women (Mao ascendent) who wanted to make a Peru
out of Peru. protodidacts with beards
like declarations of love for the English lawn,
the American front yard, Scandinavian moss, they awakened
a sense of being plucked right out of time.
shadows of shadows of their own. dreams. gallerinas
in the same line of work as the ones who brought the grandmothers’
swans to completion. in forests
filled with the exhaust of dreams, in which I
drove down hundred-lane paths from atheism
to Eden. flanked
by anti-dreamers, who were glad to have gotten themselves lost
in the uniqueness of uniformity. and who crackled
or emitted a feeble light
like wonderful words. they glanced at the ground
as if someone had robbed them of their avatars.
for a long time before I woke up, it snowed
air.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère