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Poem

Elke de Rijcke

FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 14

to the extent that I observed that my head was on its productic neck
but severed from the rest of my body,

I understood it was beyond me to put myself back together,

and that my unqualified progression should link itself to the trees,
in the proximity of which I had to move in order to exist.

time added to time had made me more tense,
more negligent and subcontracting of my body,
which only unwound itself at their warmth
and considered itself in light of their entanglements.

I thought my gravity was going to recover its balance with their mass.

I imagined the birches were going to unfold my intentions
through their tranquil respiration.

but I could see that they wouldn't be able to absorb my deception.

still, day and night, I inhaled to better take them in and
I continued to climb and descend their ways.

that which tested toxic in me bore the name of purges of emotion 

that which degenerated in my flesh was as public as it was private.

my body grappled with its survey of prisons.
it found itself hung in a struggle with their iron fist.

I was afraid there would be no end to this,
that this was only the beginning of an infinite accumulation

as long as my heart agreed to be its wheel
and my trunk the receptacle of its excrement.

DE LA ROUTE JUSQU\'À VÄSTERÅS 14

DE LA ROUTE JUSQU\'À VÄSTERÅS 14

dans la mesure où j’observais que ma tête était sur sa nuque productique
mais coupée du reste de mon corps,

je comprenais qu'il ne m'était plus donné de me joindre,

et que ma progression sans qualité devrait se référencer sur les arbres,
dans l'adjacence desquels il me fallait tourner pour exister.

le temps ajouté au temps m'avait rendue plus tendue,
plus négligente et soustraitante de mon corps,
qui ne se dénouait qu'à leur réchauffement
et ne se considérait qu'au vu de leur cousu.

je croyais que ma pesanteur allait se rééquilibrer sur leur poids.      
j'imaginais que les bouleaux allaient me déployer mes intentions
à travers leur respiration tranquille.

mais j'observais qu'ils ne pourraient résorber ma déception.

toutefois, de jour comme de nuit, j'inhalais pour mieux m'imprégner d'eux et je continuais à monter et à descendre leurs chemins.

ce qui se testait en moi de toxique portait le nom de vidanges d'émotion. 

ce qui dégénérait dans mes chairs était autant de société que de privé.

mon corps était aux prises avec son bilan de prisons.
il se trouvait pendu à une lutte avec leur poing de fer.

j'avais peur que ceci ne connaîtrait de fin,
que ce n'était que le début d'une accumulation à l'infini

aussi longtemps que mon cœur accordait d'en être la roue
et mon tronc le réceptacle de ces excréments
Close

FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 14

to the extent that I observed that my head was on its productic neck
but severed from the rest of my body,

I understood it was beyond me to put myself back together,

and that my unqualified progression should link itself to the trees,
in the proximity of which I had to move in order to exist.

time added to time had made me more tense,
more negligent and subcontracting of my body,
which only unwound itself at their warmth
and considered itself in light of their entanglements.

I thought my gravity was going to recover its balance with their mass.

I imagined the birches were going to unfold my intentions
through their tranquil respiration.

but I could see that they wouldn't be able to absorb my deception.

still, day and night, I inhaled to better take them in and
I continued to climb and descend their ways.

that which tested toxic in me bore the name of purges of emotion 

that which degenerated in my flesh was as public as it was private.

my body grappled with its survey of prisons.
it found itself hung in a struggle with their iron fist.

I was afraid there would be no end to this,
that this was only the beginning of an infinite accumulation

as long as my heart agreed to be its wheel
and my trunk the receptacle of its excrement.

FROM THE ROAD TO VÄSTERÅS 14

to the extent that I observed that my head was on its productic neck
but severed from the rest of my body,

I understood it was beyond me to put myself back together,

and that my unqualified progression should link itself to the trees,
in the proximity of which I had to move in order to exist.

time added to time had made me more tense,
more negligent and subcontracting of my body,
which only unwound itself at their warmth
and considered itself in light of their entanglements.

I thought my gravity was going to recover its balance with their mass.

I imagined the birches were going to unfold my intentions
through their tranquil respiration.

but I could see that they wouldn't be able to absorb my deception.

still, day and night, I inhaled to better take them in and
I continued to climb and descend their ways.

that which tested toxic in me bore the name of purges of emotion 

that which degenerated in my flesh was as public as it was private.

my body grappled with its survey of prisons.
it found itself hung in a struggle with their iron fist.

I was afraid there would be no end to this,
that this was only the beginning of an infinite accumulation

as long as my heart agreed to be its wheel
and my trunk the receptacle of its excrement.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère