No, not now or ever
Certain things can’t be.
Nor need they be.
Drops lie flat in the watery plane
once the impact
of the impact has died
Crossing the Waal
Alert buzzards of yesteryear
Alert buzzards of yesteryear
have come to claim what they left,
but again I stand
to shoo them away.
The water’s on for a pot of tea.
Scarecrow drinks while birdies get gone.
Hang 10
The slick of paint’s a wave to ride
till you’re perched upon the crest that’s dried
What’s just over the hill
Wrongly roams the mind
Like Satan in Job in need of a job,
testing the rest (at God’s request?),
every last link to see what gives
The cheap seats
Man makes his own mountain
I’d like to go down to where the day went
To see what one does
when not a day.
Maybe there’s something he needs.
Can I be of some assistance?
No, we’re fine here:
we love the mist
of shiftless play.
Utrecht Journal 