Poem
Dominique De Groen
Supply Chain Management
Every morning,waking up, buried alive
under $$$, fast fash & fluorescent powder
in a brightly lit basement:
an informal economy
a shadow economy
a territory of scavengers.
The supply chain manager knows
that the supply chain is a machine
filled with a grey mass
where labour is added
and grey currency extracted.
The supply chain manager knows
that you can’t spell customers
without customs
nor without $$$.
The supply chain manger knows
that in an efficient supply chain
the beginning takes the end in its mouth
that through the eyes of a four-dimensional being
the supply chain
is a semi-transparent,
transcontinental worm
with a cotton plant on one end
and a customer on the other
that the tentacles of the worm slither their way –
from the S-twist
by which the filaments
are held together
the twist angle depending on the force exerted
to the sodium hydroxide bath
that makes the cotton fibres more elastic
smoother
flatter
more suitable for the penetration of dyes
to the grains of sand dredged
without permission from the Dhaleshwari
the optimal blast power
for soft & distressed denim
the white clouds of silica
in Savar Upazila
to the weeds in the pavements of Barisal city
which vomits labourers into Dhaka’s Cut-Make-Trim factories
to the layer of sticky sweat
on my fingers
as I sort lingerie
that was tried on and rejected
to my intimate zone
follow the fold lines
from the check-out line
to the credit card flow
– a filament winds its way to my most intimate skin.
I feel the gaze of the supply chain manager under my layers of textile.
The supply chain manager’s fivers in my panties.
Shop girl: when the supply chain has flooded the shop floor
and temporarily receded
I go hunting in the neon slipstream
dredging up fallen pieces of fast fashion from the riverbed.
Shop girl: the shop floor dragged me out of myself
and here I stand naked
under the white light
in the middle of an object
heterogeneous and invisible
but solid.
© Translation: 2017, Dominique De Groen
Supply Chain Management
Supply Chain Management
Iedere ochtendwakker worden, levend begraven
onder $$$, fast fash & fluorescentiepoeder
in een helverlichte kelder:
een informele economie
een schaduweconomie
een territorium van scavengers.
De supply chain manager weet
dat de supply chain een machine is
die gevuld wordt met een grijze massa
waaraan arbeid wordt toegevoegd
en waar grijze valuta uitkomen.
De supply chain manager weet
dat je katoenplant
niet kan spellen zonder klant
en ook niet zonder $$$.
De supply chain manager weet
dat in een efficiënte bevoorradingsketen
het begin het einde in zich draagt
dat de supply chain
vanuit de ogen van een 4-dimensionaal wezen
een semitransparante
transcontinentale worm is
met een katoenplant aan het ene eind
en een klant aan het andere
dat de tentakels van de worm zich een weg slijmen –
van de S-twist
waarmee katoenfilamenten
in elkaar worden gedraaid
de hoek afhankelijk van de uitgeoefende kracht
van het natriumhydroxidebad
dat de katoenvezels elastischer maakt
gladder
strakker
geschikter voor penetratie door kleurstoffen
van de zandkorrels zonder vergunning
opgediept uit de Dhaleshwari
de optimale blast power
voor zacht & distressed denim
de witte wolkjes silica
in Savar Upazila
van het onkruid in de voegen van Barisal
dat arbeiders uitkotst in Dhaka’s Cut Make Trim
van de laag plakkerig zweet
op mijn vingers
waarmee ik lingerie sorteer
die gepast werd en afgekeurd
naar mijn intieme zone
volg de vouwlijnen
van de check out line
naar de credit card flow
– een filament loopt ten einde tegen mijn intiemste huid.
Ik voel de blik van de supply chain manager onder mijn lapjes textiel.
De flappen van de supply chain manager in mijn slipje.
Shop girl: wanneer de supply chain de winkelvloer overspoeld heeft
en zich tijdelijk weer terugtrekt
jaag ik in de neonverlichte slipstream
trek gevallen stukken fast fashion uit het rivierslijk.
Shop girl: de winkelvloer sleurde me uit mezelf
en ik sta naakt
onder het witte licht
middenin een object
heterogeen en onzichtbaar
maar solide.
© 2017, Dominique De Groen
From: Shop Girl
Publisher: Het Balanseer, Gent
From: Shop Girl
Publisher: Het Balanseer, Gent
Poems
Poems of Dominique De Groen
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Supply Chain Management
Every morning,waking up, buried alive
under $$$, fast fash & fluorescent powder
in a brightly lit basement:
an informal economy
a shadow economy
a territory of scavengers.
The supply chain manager knows
that the supply chain is a machine
filled with a grey mass
where labour is added
and grey currency extracted.
The supply chain manager knows
that you can’t spell customers
without customs
nor without $$$.
The supply chain manger knows
that in an efficient supply chain
the beginning takes the end in its mouth
that through the eyes of a four-dimensional being
the supply chain
is a semi-transparent,
transcontinental worm
with a cotton plant on one end
and a customer on the other
that the tentacles of the worm slither their way –
from the S-twist
by which the filaments
are held together
the twist angle depending on the force exerted
to the sodium hydroxide bath
that makes the cotton fibres more elastic
smoother
flatter
more suitable for the penetration of dyes
to the grains of sand dredged
without permission from the Dhaleshwari
the optimal blast power
for soft & distressed denim
the white clouds of silica
in Savar Upazila
to the weeds in the pavements of Barisal city
which vomits labourers into Dhaka’s Cut-Make-Trim factories
to the layer of sticky sweat
on my fingers
as I sort lingerie
that was tried on and rejected
to my intimate zone
follow the fold lines
from the check-out line
to the credit card flow
– a filament winds its way to my most intimate skin.
I feel the gaze of the supply chain manager under my layers of textile.
The supply chain manager’s fivers in my panties.
Shop girl: when the supply chain has flooded the shop floor
and temporarily receded
I go hunting in the neon slipstream
dredging up fallen pieces of fast fashion from the riverbed.
Shop girl: the shop floor dragged me out of myself
and here I stand naked
under the white light
in the middle of an object
heterogeneous and invisible
but solid.
© 2017, Dominique De Groen
From: Shop Girl
From: Shop Girl
Supply Chain Management
Every morning,waking up, buried alive
under $$$, fast fash & fluorescent powder
in a brightly lit basement:
an informal economy
a shadow economy
a territory of scavengers.
The supply chain manager knows
that the supply chain is a machine
filled with a grey mass
where labour is added
and grey currency extracted.
The supply chain manager knows
that you can’t spell customers
without customs
nor without $$$.
The supply chain manger knows
that in an efficient supply chain
the beginning takes the end in its mouth
that through the eyes of a four-dimensional being
the supply chain
is a semi-transparent,
transcontinental worm
with a cotton plant on one end
and a customer on the other
that the tentacles of the worm slither their way –
from the S-twist
by which the filaments
are held together
the twist angle depending on the force exerted
to the sodium hydroxide bath
that makes the cotton fibres more elastic
smoother
flatter
more suitable for the penetration of dyes
to the grains of sand dredged
without permission from the Dhaleshwari
the optimal blast power
for soft & distressed denim
the white clouds of silica
in Savar Upazila
to the weeds in the pavements of Barisal city
which vomits labourers into Dhaka’s Cut-Make-Trim factories
to the layer of sticky sweat
on my fingers
as I sort lingerie
that was tried on and rejected
to my intimate zone
follow the fold lines
from the check-out line
to the credit card flow
– a filament winds its way to my most intimate skin.
I feel the gaze of the supply chain manager under my layers of textile.
The supply chain manager’s fivers in my panties.
Shop girl: when the supply chain has flooded the shop floor
and temporarily receded
I go hunting in the neon slipstream
dredging up fallen pieces of fast fashion from the riverbed.
Shop girl: the shop floor dragged me out of myself
and here I stand naked
under the white light
in the middle of an object
heterogeneous and invisible
but solid.
© 2017, Dominique De Groen
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