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April 2021

By Olivier van Eijk, in-house poet 2020-2021

The shaking praying beggars

The shaking praying beggars pacify in the morning dew
‘p-p-preserve our decree, d-don’t deprive us from seamless inability”

The findings move about as naked polar bears
Their silence as snow men in the rain

The dawn decomposes dramatically thunderous above the palms of their hands
That face the clouds like bent spoons
The frost on their finger as a consolidated baby blue pitch

The land mourns with them
Tulips hit their buds against the sky like crazy men
Bee trees dance melancholically shy in the moonlight
their slim tree trunks hang on their branches as if the earth is a ceiling
above an infinite black room speckled with light
and filled with reeling grey green chandeliers

The shaking praying beggars caress their beards
as if behind their cheeks there is a key in which they can blind the silence

Of them,
One is a boulder
To throw and to break with

Of them,
One is antlers
to wear as a crown

Of them,
One is what was left behind

An athletic human nor a yet undiscovered beast
a perverse symmetry curved as disc thrower
Red -as deers bitten to pieces in a giant human’s mouth- eyes
That puts a grave cloth as a bridge’s dress over the last human
whilst saying the following prayer:

“in the last light where our shadows long for their leader
the soul, as a sandwich bag, turns vacuum into a breath of mercy”

Last modified:19 April 2021 10.42 a.m.
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