I stare at this white space
open myself in anticipation
of what is to come, that comes
when it comes and whether it accumulates under a grid
with a written roof.
see an opening,
timidly presenting itself,
still slowing down and disguised
light and still little digested
oh well, it dreams
.
it gurgles along
my only organ pipe
an emerging process
of a starting
or rather leaving
resistant resonance:
the spirit finds its way out of the bottle.
in this imperfectum of
every minute that has passed,
my morning is a creative crèche,
still rocking to a defined height
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Ik ben , en gebruik soms ook wel de schuilnaam Julius V.E. Dreyfsandt zu Schlamm.
