Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Admiel Kosman

WHAT I CAN


I can write poems from sand, water and mud.
On the table I’ve written poems made of small pieces and crumbs of words.
I can write poems that bang.
Loud. Like the shutters. With a vengeance.
Poems made of rain. And poems for the poor made of tin.
I can write very great poems for you made from bits of cotton wool and send them off.
 
I can write agreeable poems for you on the porch.
Giant like haystacks and higher than the clouds.
I can write poems for you about fabulous landscapes while I lean over a plate
or scrub a dirty sink in a corner of the kitchen.
 
My wife and shouting children
stand below like a circus of grinning faces and I
jump into the water, an acrobat of words. Crystals seethe in my mouth, blend
into a thick word soup. I am writing poems now made of potatoes,
 
sickly poems,
ones that wound and tear and do harm, about my childhood about shame about rare
sensitivities and I can write poems for you and brush them off as if nothing had ever happened then,
 
a series of ornamental poems. Look, I’m getting up and waving them
like colorful ribbons to the echo of children’s laughter.
 
Light poems, light-footed poems.
If you wish I can write poems to order,
national poems   powerful striding poems   pleasant poems about my magic gardens
craftily opening at night for parties
for the tender body of pleasure and desire
poems of holiness, poems of abomination tfoo
poems praying, pleading poems on all fours
like beasts   poems poems poems   you are in a hurry I see I’m almost done I can
sketch very short ones out of this essence very quickly on several cloying sugar cubes
and a cup of coffee.

WAT KAN IK


Ik kan gedichten schrijven van zand en water en modder.
Ik heb aan tafel gedichten geschreven van stukjes en woordkruimels.
Ik kan gedichten schrijven die kloppen.
Hard. Zoals de luiken. Met alle kracht.
Gedichten van regen. En ook gedichten van blik, voor de armen.
Ik kan voor jullie grote gedichten van plukjes watten schrijven en verzenden.

Ik kan voor jullie fraaie gedichten schrijven op het balkon.
Zo reusachtig als hooibergen en hoger dan de wolken.
Ik kan voor jullie gedichten over prachtige landschappen schrijven terwijl ik me
Over een bord eten buig of een vieze gootsteen schoonpoets in het keukenhok.

Mijn vrouw en de krijsende kinderen
Staan beneden als een circus van blije smoelen en ik stijg als een
Woordacrobaat op naar het water. Kristallen koken in mijn mond en gaan op
In een dikke woordensoep. Ik schrijf nu gedichten van stukjes aardappel

Ziekelijke gedichten
Ondermijnende uittrekkende schadelijke gedichten over mijn kinderjaren over de
Schaamte en de bijzondere gevoeligheid maar ik kan zomaar in een handomdraai
Een reeks gedichten voor jullie schrijven voor de sier. Zie, ik sta op en zwaai
Ermee als met kleurige slingers bij de galmende lach van de kinderen.

Lichte gedichten. Luchtige gedichten.
Ik kan als jullie het willen gedichten voor jullie schrijven op verzoek
Nationale gedichten krachtige marsgedichten fraaie gedichten over mijn prachtige tuinen
Die zich vannacht in het geniep ontsluiten
Voor de feesten van genot en lust van het tedere lijf
Heilige gedichten zondige gedichten bah
Bid- en smeekgedichten bestiale gedichten op handen en voeten
Gedichten gedichten gedichten jullie hebben haast zie ik ik ben zo klaar ik kan
Ook minigedichtjes schrijven beknopt en vlug over een paar mierzoete suikerklontjes
En een kop koffie

מה אני יכול

 
Close

WHAT I CAN


I can write poems from sand, water and mud.
On the table I’ve written poems made of small pieces and crumbs of words.
I can write poems that bang.
Loud. Like the shutters. With a vengeance.
Poems made of rain. And poems for the poor made of tin.
I can write very great poems for you made from bits of cotton wool and send them off.
 
I can write agreeable poems for you on the porch.
Giant like haystacks and higher than the clouds.
I can write poems for you about fabulous landscapes while I lean over a plate
or scrub a dirty sink in a corner of the kitchen.
 
My wife and shouting children
stand below like a circus of grinning faces and I
jump into the water, an acrobat of words. Crystals seethe in my mouth, blend
into a thick word soup. I am writing poems now made of potatoes,
 
sickly poems,
ones that wound and tear and do harm, about my childhood about shame about rare
sensitivities and I can write poems for you and brush them off as if nothing had ever happened then,
 
a series of ornamental poems. Look, I’m getting up and waving them
like colorful ribbons to the echo of children’s laughter.
 
Light poems, light-footed poems.
If you wish I can write poems to order,
national poems   powerful striding poems   pleasant poems about my magic gardens
craftily opening at night for parties
for the tender body of pleasure and desire
poems of holiness, poems of abomination tfoo
poems praying, pleading poems on all fours
like beasts   poems poems poems   you are in a hurry I see I’m almost done I can
sketch very short ones out of this essence very quickly on several cloying sugar cubes
and a cup of coffee.

WHAT I CAN


I can write poems from sand, water and mud.
On the table I’ve written poems made of small pieces and crumbs of words.
I can write poems that bang.
Loud. Like the shutters. With a vengeance.
Poems made of rain. And poems for the poor made of tin.
I can write very great poems for you made from bits of cotton wool and send them off.
 
I can write agreeable poems for you on the porch.
Giant like haystacks and higher than the clouds.
I can write poems for you about fabulous landscapes while I lean over a plate
or scrub a dirty sink in a corner of the kitchen.
 
My wife and shouting children
stand below like a circus of grinning faces and I
jump into the water, an acrobat of words. Crystals seethe in my mouth, blend
into a thick word soup. I am writing poems now made of potatoes,
 
sickly poems,
ones that wound and tear and do harm, about my childhood about shame about rare
sensitivities and I can write poems for you and brush them off as if nothing had ever happened then,
 
a series of ornamental poems. Look, I’m getting up and waving them
like colorful ribbons to the echo of children’s laughter.
 
Light poems, light-footed poems.
If you wish I can write poems to order,
national poems   powerful striding poems   pleasant poems about my magic gardens
craftily opening at night for parties
for the tender body of pleasure and desire
poems of holiness, poems of abomination tfoo
poems praying, pleading poems on all fours
like beasts   poems poems poems   you are in a hurry I see I’m almost done I can
sketch very short ones out of this essence very quickly on several cloying sugar cubes
and a cup of coffee.
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
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