NIGHT STIRRING Comments

For Remco Campert
Evening
and the glow stick's in your eyes and you are looking
its orange snapped into your eyes the liquid light
in which I knew what I would never know again
the way a word

can come to mean another word
just like that and how it all

outside the evening's heavy in the air, stale and already late
the sluggish smoke irresolute between you and me, and you
looking and what that stirs in an evening, in me, bright red ants
hundreds for a second before the light shrinks, the itch
the raging itch of your eyes that won't get less

not even now the light

because on the slipway between now and later
a room awaits with neither doubt nor mosquitoes
how else could it be with your hand dangling over me

not touching but giving me the possibility
of pushing up against it the boundless possibility
of pushing up against a hand that is not touching
me, but giving me the possibility to

waiting and swelling
are almost the same, bleeding into each other
at the tipping point of what I want
what I know in the fluorescent light

the spectrum in a puddle for a moment
it was true and bright orange
sometimes it can't be any other way

in my mind I expand the hand with an evening
a mouth a shoulder a crotch
and that it all

and you don't let the ants and the swelling colours
that colour is only dust and light that the light can hardly
the evening still bright orange

leave it a while

until the light no longer until the looking too
is only the direction of your eyes
...
Read full text