Poem
Joke van Leeuwen
In the Queue
View of a neck. Thinks: him with the neck, does
he know about those two black dots in his skin
like rear-view peepers? Moves up. Considers
adjusting the label poking up out of
the T-shirt, EU40 US10 CA10. Doesn’t.
Thinks about globalisation instead. The surf,
the mountains, rapeseed fields, muddy paths.
Postcards of landscapes travelling
for ages for ten seconds’ silent scrutiny.
Moves up. Hits on the idea of singing – a song from the
previous century, one that will have someone singing along,
annoying someone else (freshly divorced,
for instance, put on hold on the phone with a poor
“’Cause I’m always, always yours.”).
Moves up. Doesn’t sing. Sees the shoes of
her who’s up next, thinks of vases
in which people flower, sees
wonky heels. Moves up. A sparrow
needs to fly in here so everyone can follow
that sparrow with their eyes, unifying sparrow
in a panic. Is there someone here
of interest? Someone with wise thoughts
in out of the cold? Someone whose hugger
is deceased and no new takers?
Moves up. Him behind the glass asks his question.
A one-way ticket, please.
For today?
he know about those two black dots in his skin
like rear-view peepers? Moves up. Considers
adjusting the label poking up out of
the T-shirt, EU40 US10 CA10. Doesn’t.
Thinks about globalisation instead. The surf,
the mountains, rapeseed fields, muddy paths.
Postcards of landscapes travelling
for ages for ten seconds’ silent scrutiny.
Moves up. Hits on the idea of singing – a song from the
previous century, one that will have someone singing along,
annoying someone else (freshly divorced,
for instance, put on hold on the phone with a poor
“’Cause I’m always, always yours.”).
Moves up. Doesn’t sing. Sees the shoes of
her who’s up next, thinks of vases
in which people flower, sees
wonky heels. Moves up. A sparrow
needs to fly in here so everyone can follow
that sparrow with their eyes, unifying sparrow
in a panic. Is there someone here
of interest? Someone with wise thoughts
in out of the cold? Someone whose hugger
is deceased and no new takers?
Moves up. Him behind the glass asks his question.
A one-way ticket, please.
For today?
© Translation: 2012, David Colmer
Publisher: First published on PIW, , 2012
Publisher: First published on PIW, , 2012
STAAT IN DE RIJ
STAAT IN DE RIJ
Uitzicht op een nek. Denkt: zou die van die nek
weten van de twee zwarte puntjes in het vel
als achteruitkijkoogjes? Schuift op. Overweegt
het lipje goed te leggen dat uit het T-shirt
steekt, EU40 US10 CA10. Doet het niet,
denkt wel aan de globalisering. De branding,
de bergen, koolzaadvelden, modderpaadjes.
Ansichtkaarten van landschappen lang
onderweg om tien seconden te worden bekeken.
Schuift op. Verzint te gaan zingen, een lied uit de
vorige eeuw, dat iemand zal meezingen, dat
iemand geërgerd zal maken (zoals, net
gescheiden, aan de telefoon in de wacht gezet,
een schraal ’Cause I’m always, always yours).
Schuift op. Zingt niet. Ziet de schoenen van
wie straks aan de beurt, denkt aan vazen
waarin mensen staan te bloeien, ziet
scheve hakken. Schuift op. Er moet maar
een mus naar binnen vliegen, zodat iedereen
de mus met de ogen zal volgen, verbindende mus
in paniek. Staat er hier iemand met wie nog
veel mogelijk? Iemand met wijze gedachten die
binnenblijven wegens kou? Iemand met
overleden omhelzer en niemand voorradig?
Schuift op. Die achter glas stelt zijn vraag.
Eén enkele reis, alstublieft.
Voor vandaag?
weten van de twee zwarte puntjes in het vel
als achteruitkijkoogjes? Schuift op. Overweegt
het lipje goed te leggen dat uit het T-shirt
steekt, EU40 US10 CA10. Doet het niet,
denkt wel aan de globalisering. De branding,
de bergen, koolzaadvelden, modderpaadjes.
Ansichtkaarten van landschappen lang
onderweg om tien seconden te worden bekeken.
Schuift op. Verzint te gaan zingen, een lied uit de
vorige eeuw, dat iemand zal meezingen, dat
iemand geërgerd zal maken (zoals, net
gescheiden, aan de telefoon in de wacht gezet,
een schraal ’Cause I’m always, always yours).
Schuift op. Zingt niet. Ziet de schoenen van
wie straks aan de beurt, denkt aan vazen
waarin mensen staan te bloeien, ziet
scheve hakken. Schuift op. Er moet maar
een mus naar binnen vliegen, zodat iedereen
de mus met de ogen zal volgen, verbindende mus
in paniek. Staat er hier iemand met wie nog
veel mogelijk? Iemand met wijze gedachten die
binnenblijven wegens kou? Iemand met
overleden omhelzer en niemand voorradig?
Schuift op. Die achter glas stelt zijn vraag.
Eén enkele reis, alstublieft.
Voor vandaag?
© 2012, Joke van Leeuwen
From: Half in de zee
Publisher: Poetry International/Querido, Rotterdam/Amsterdam
From: Half in de zee
Publisher: Poetry International/Querido, Rotterdam/Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Joke van Leeuwen
Close
In the Queue
View of a neck. Thinks: him with the neck, does
he know about those two black dots in his skin
like rear-view peepers? Moves up. Considers
adjusting the label poking up out of
the T-shirt, EU40 US10 CA10. Doesn’t.
Thinks about globalisation instead. The surf,
the mountains, rapeseed fields, muddy paths.
Postcards of landscapes travelling
for ages for ten seconds’ silent scrutiny.
Moves up. Hits on the idea of singing – a song from the
previous century, one that will have someone singing along,
annoying someone else (freshly divorced,
for instance, put on hold on the phone with a poor
“’Cause I’m always, always yours.”).
Moves up. Doesn’t sing. Sees the shoes of
her who’s up next, thinks of vases
in which people flower, sees
wonky heels. Moves up. A sparrow
needs to fly in here so everyone can follow
that sparrow with their eyes, unifying sparrow
in a panic. Is there someone here
of interest? Someone with wise thoughts
in out of the cold? Someone whose hugger
is deceased and no new takers?
Moves up. Him behind the glass asks his question.
A one-way ticket, please.
For today?
he know about those two black dots in his skin
like rear-view peepers? Moves up. Considers
adjusting the label poking up out of
the T-shirt, EU40 US10 CA10. Doesn’t.
Thinks about globalisation instead. The surf,
the mountains, rapeseed fields, muddy paths.
Postcards of landscapes travelling
for ages for ten seconds’ silent scrutiny.
Moves up. Hits on the idea of singing – a song from the
previous century, one that will have someone singing along,
annoying someone else (freshly divorced,
for instance, put on hold on the phone with a poor
“’Cause I’m always, always yours.”).
Moves up. Doesn’t sing. Sees the shoes of
her who’s up next, thinks of vases
in which people flower, sees
wonky heels. Moves up. A sparrow
needs to fly in here so everyone can follow
that sparrow with their eyes, unifying sparrow
in a panic. Is there someone here
of interest? Someone with wise thoughts
in out of the cold? Someone whose hugger
is deceased and no new takers?
Moves up. Him behind the glass asks his question.
A one-way ticket, please.
For today?
© 2012, David Colmer
From: Half in de zee
Publisher: 2012, First published on PIW, Rotterdam/Amsterdam
From: Half in de zee
Publisher: 2012, First published on PIW, Rotterdam/Amsterdam
In the Queue
View of a neck. Thinks: him with the neck, does
he know about those two black dots in his skin
like rear-view peepers? Moves up. Considers
adjusting the label poking up out of
the T-shirt, EU40 US10 CA10. Doesn’t.
Thinks about globalisation instead. The surf,
the mountains, rapeseed fields, muddy paths.
Postcards of landscapes travelling
for ages for ten seconds’ silent scrutiny.
Moves up. Hits on the idea of singing – a song from the
previous century, one that will have someone singing along,
annoying someone else (freshly divorced,
for instance, put on hold on the phone with a poor
“’Cause I’m always, always yours.”).
Moves up. Doesn’t sing. Sees the shoes of
her who’s up next, thinks of vases
in which people flower, sees
wonky heels. Moves up. A sparrow
needs to fly in here so everyone can follow
that sparrow with their eyes, unifying sparrow
in a panic. Is there someone here
of interest? Someone with wise thoughts
in out of the cold? Someone whose hugger
is deceased and no new takers?
Moves up. Him behind the glass asks his question.
A one-way ticket, please.
For today?
he know about those two black dots in his skin
like rear-view peepers? Moves up. Considers
adjusting the label poking up out of
the T-shirt, EU40 US10 CA10. Doesn’t.
Thinks about globalisation instead. The surf,
the mountains, rapeseed fields, muddy paths.
Postcards of landscapes travelling
for ages for ten seconds’ silent scrutiny.
Moves up. Hits on the idea of singing – a song from the
previous century, one that will have someone singing along,
annoying someone else (freshly divorced,
for instance, put on hold on the phone with a poor
“’Cause I’m always, always yours.”).
Moves up. Doesn’t sing. Sees the shoes of
her who’s up next, thinks of vases
in which people flower, sees
wonky heels. Moves up. A sparrow
needs to fly in here so everyone can follow
that sparrow with their eyes, unifying sparrow
in a panic. Is there someone here
of interest? Someone with wise thoughts
in out of the cold? Someone whose hugger
is deceased and no new takers?
Moves up. Him behind the glass asks his question.
A one-way ticket, please.
For today?
© 2012, David Colmer
Publisher: 2012, First published on PIW,
Publisher: 2012, First published on PIW,
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