Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Tonnus Oosterhoff

A woman filling herself in pale grey from below

A woman filling herself in pale grey from below
climbs, filmed as she climbs. Trick photography; it\'s you.
You are there too, surprised
and moved. \'To think that film still exists.\' \'Yes.\'

Huh? Four-thirty a.m. So I\'m still dreaming of it
although you\'ve long ceased to exist in this form
My capacity to think slips behind a dark disc

lacks will, half-white, taste no, wrongly stimulated senses
stuck halfway in the process of death-in-life
(now) overinterested in views that concern those others

fire in the mill in mourning

Een in grijsgrauw vanonder zich vullende vrouw

Een in grijsgrauw vanonder zich vullende vrouw
klimt, in de klim gefilmd. Trucage; jij bent het.
Jij bent er ook, ook verrast
en ontroerd. \'Dat die film nog bestaat.\' \'Ja.\'

Hè? Ochtend half vijf. Dus ik droom nog van
hoewel je in deze vorm niet meer bent allang
Mijn denkvermogen trekt zich achter een donkere schijf

wilsarm, half-wit, smaak nee, verprikkelde tuigen
halverwege het in het leven sterven steken gebleven
(nu) overgeïnteresseerd in opvattingen die anderen aangaan

brand in de molen in de rouwstand
Close

A woman filling herself in pale grey from below

A woman filling herself in pale grey from below
climbs, filmed as she climbs. Trick photography; it\'s you.
You are there too, surprised
and moved. \'To think that film still exists.\' \'Yes.\'

Huh? Four-thirty a.m. So I\'m still dreaming of it
although you\'ve long ceased to exist in this form
My capacity to think slips behind a dark disc

lacks will, half-white, taste no, wrongly stimulated senses
stuck halfway in the process of death-in-life
(now) overinterested in views that concern those others

fire in the mill in mourning

A woman filling herself in pale grey from below

A woman filling herself in pale grey from below
climbs, filmed as she climbs. Trick photography; it\'s you.
You are there too, surprised
and moved. \'To think that film still exists.\' \'Yes.\'

Huh? Four-thirty a.m. So I\'m still dreaming of it
although you\'ve long ceased to exist in this form
My capacity to think slips behind a dark disc

lacks will, half-white, taste no, wrongly stimulated senses
stuck halfway in the process of death-in-life
(now) overinterested in views that concern those others

fire in the mill in mourning
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