mijn gedichten
Immersed in a tangled weave of contemporary life where big box stores and suburban parking lots coexist alongside the instructive silence of juniper trees and a pulsing waterfall
" And now past eighty
Sometimes the scale is intimate
so shar’d in the general speech
Meditations Fort Not mijn gedichtenKeston Sutherland A manual of meditations on grief blocked by trauma, pliers, goats, remedies, meaning, conduits, suicide, eggs, times, tutting, God, lifts, treasury tags, wrecking yards, Douglas Barrowman, involuntary spasms, front desks, manganese deficiency, weevil shit, Mr Sheen, coal potential, the bison, The Final Cut, tone of voice, trillions of cicadas, Elisabeth Koolaart Hoofman, bogus antler cannibalism, the Preces Gertrudianae, parodies of