Poem
Dominique De Groen
Checkout Zone
I find my bodyat the end of a supply chain
that empties into me non-stop.
Let it all drain out of me.
No, you can take me out of the checkout zone
but you can’t take the checkout zone out of me.
The shop floor sticks to my insides,
absorbs everything it touches.
Pumped so full I don’t need the internet anymore
I’m already worldwide.
I’ll exploit myself faster than my shadow
and dream of a world
beyond this zone
where I can retreat to
after scanning a barcode
or fingerprint.
Shop floor without end:
ur-soup, protean mass or seminal fluid
the shop floor is wet
and outside the sun is shining.
I unravel a garment
until I can’t go on
and there’s no capitalism inside
and when I leave the space I won’t stop
relating to these objects
that I swallowed
so that I could touch myself.
My body becomes a poem about capital
and I’m stuck in clinging clouds
of elastane
polyester
expanded polystyrene.
The intimacy seeps
out of my caresses
to flow back later
via backward linkages.
© Translation: 2017, Dominique De Groen
Betaalzone
Betaalzone
Ik vind mijn lichaam terugaan het einde van een supply chain
die non-stop in mij leegloopt.
Laat alles weer uit me vloeien.
Je kan mij uit de betaalzone halen
maar je kan de betaalzone niet uit mij halen.
De winkelvloer kleeft aan mijn binnenkant
absorbeert alles.
Zo volgepompt dat ik het internet niet nodig heb i’m already world wide
laat ik me sneller uitbuiten dan mijn schaduw
en droom een wereld
buiten deze zone
waar ik naar terugkeren kan
na het scannen van een barcode
of een vingerafdruk.
Shop floor without end:
oersoep, proteïsche massa of seminaal vocht
de winkelvloer is nat
en buiten schijnt de zon.
Ik ontrafel een artikel
tot ik niet verder kan
en het kapitalisme zit er niet in
en wanneer ik de ruimte verlaat zal ik niet stoppen
me tot deze objecten te verhouden
die ik inslikte
om mezelf te kunnen aanraken.
Mijn lichaam verandert in een gedicht over het kapitaal
en ik hang vast in kleverige wolken
van elastaan
polyester
geëxpandeerd polystyreen.
Intimiteit sijpelt weg
uit mijn aanrakingen
vloeit terug
langs backward linkages.
© 2017, Dominique De Groen
From: Shop Girl
Publisher: Het Balanseer, Gent
From: Shop Girl
Publisher: Het Balanseer, Gent
Poems
Poems of Dominique De Groen
Close
Checkout Zone
I find my bodyat the end of a supply chain
that empties into me non-stop.
Let it all drain out of me.
No, you can take me out of the checkout zone
but you can’t take the checkout zone out of me.
The shop floor sticks to my insides,
absorbs everything it touches.
Pumped so full I don’t need the internet anymore
I’m already worldwide.
I’ll exploit myself faster than my shadow
and dream of a world
beyond this zone
where I can retreat to
after scanning a barcode
or fingerprint.
Shop floor without end:
ur-soup, protean mass or seminal fluid
the shop floor is wet
and outside the sun is shining.
I unravel a garment
until I can’t go on
and there’s no capitalism inside
and when I leave the space I won’t stop
relating to these objects
that I swallowed
so that I could touch myself.
My body becomes a poem about capital
and I’m stuck in clinging clouds
of elastane
polyester
expanded polystyrene.
The intimacy seeps
out of my caresses
to flow back later
via backward linkages.
© 2017, Dominique De Groen
From: Shop Girl
From: Shop Girl
Checkout Zone
I find my bodyat the end of a supply chain
that empties into me non-stop.
Let it all drain out of me.
No, you can take me out of the checkout zone
but you can’t take the checkout zone out of me.
The shop floor sticks to my insides,
absorbs everything it touches.
Pumped so full I don’t need the internet anymore
I’m already worldwide.
I’ll exploit myself faster than my shadow
and dream of a world
beyond this zone
where I can retreat to
after scanning a barcode
or fingerprint.
Shop floor without end:
ur-soup, protean mass or seminal fluid
the shop floor is wet
and outside the sun is shining.
I unravel a garment
until I can’t go on
and there’s no capitalism inside
and when I leave the space I won’t stop
relating to these objects
that I swallowed
so that I could touch myself.
My body becomes a poem about capital
and I’m stuck in clinging clouds
of elastane
polyester
expanded polystyrene.
The intimacy seeps
out of my caresses
to flow back later
via backward linkages.
© 2017, Dominique De Groen
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