There are quays for, for

passers-by: the spectators --


and the cargo boats.

When you go boating,

you are part of the city-


scape that others see.

We do fitness on

the canal: we pedal hard --


to see the quaysides.

More bicycles here

than houses, that makes sense, but --


where are the people?

It always starts this way...
you fold a paper airplane
throw it up...watch it fly...swoop
only to crash
"Its like love" he said
turning over in bed
the next time he spoke
he asked for money

"Its like love" I thought...as 
I walked out the door
thinking...nothing is ever like love...
what good is it to compare
what you want....and what is
"nog eentje" I say...and sip beer quickly
it's always so dark over here

one foot then the other...
keep...counting as you...make your...way
across tracks and cobbles
through crowds and rain
one drink too many.....but always too few
a separate issue now
no longer love in question
just lust and hunger for release

"are you alone now" he said
"no...I'm with you"
He reaches for my hand...
I'm reaching for my drink...
we collide and....glass smashes 
to the floor....bleeds red wine

a calm feeling now....after kissing and ***
the smell soothes...yet...creates confusion
an odour of such delight makes one feel...
feel so filthy...."its a necessary evil" he said
and as i close the last shirt button
I say "believe me...it has nothing to do with heaven"

I met Sharon, walked

her along unknown canals --


with bikes everywhere.

In the city there are many doors
that are open at night
to being awake
experiencing something together
across the threshold
no longer being an outsider

In the city there are many sidewalks
where people stand
and explore distant areas
with flexible words
questions and mental leaps
to become familiar with them

In the city there are many gardens
where children play, birds
whistle and all year round, flowers
attract bees and people
to come and feast
on the nectar of the day

Back in Amsterdam!

So, why aren't people shining --


here with happiness?!

The sky is blue and cold today
as if the atmosphere is thinner
and I can sense the void

under which the houses are small
and low, meaningless
fleeting and interchangeable

The old timber factory seems to be leaking
On the right side of the base
smoke rises from the building

as if a reversed draught
through the black chimney hole
absorbs, from distant stars, seas
of gigawatts of power for the city

I entered the display case
of people educators
subsidizing snobs
the multirich and companies

among tourists and inhabitants
who want to be seen
in the museum café and
with sophisticated pastry lard
the conversation with careless clauses

they quote from an authority
whom nobody has to understand
to get the intention
of the praised artists

The shop was crowded
Spotlights on show-pieces
fancy coffee table books
and chic presents
for the season and the next holidays

Especially the past
is on sale, postcards
of the attractions
and sights of the city

interchangeable
like the collections
which graduated stylists
cast in international moulds
to magnets for visitors