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nora Jan 31
I watch her watch herself,
pale, slender fingers pressed against her flat stomach.
She gives an uncertain sigh as she turns this way and that,
twirling a lock of hair in her pale, slender fingers
and trying to look disinterested in her own reflection.

She reaches into a tiny purse, eventually,
and pulls out a tube of mascara.
Her eyes widen to marbles as she teeters close to the mirror,
applying her armor stroke
by stroke
by stroke.

She knows that I am watching her now (I wobble hazily in the mirror),
so I look away for a moment,
and by the time my eyes dart back to hers, her eyelashes flutter pitch black
Like ink spilling from a fountain pen.

I can tell she’s still looking at her stomach
And she can tell I’m still looking at her,
so she murmurs something like acknowledgement
and brushes past me.
Watching her walk away feels wrong, so I look down at my hands instead,
red and pruny
from the hot water seeping down the drain.
Zywa Jan 16
They're always swimming,

but fish do move even more --

outside the water.
"Maurits en de feiten" ("Maurits and the facts", 1986, Gerrit Krol), § 2

Collection "Rasping ants"
Zywa Jan 13
You find your own laws

of nature, because you choose --

your observations.
Novel "Een Fries huilt niet" ("A Frisian does not cry", 1980, Gerrit Krol), chapter 2.2

Collection "Appearances"
neth jones Dec 2023
blood patter and splash                            
leads us         concrete toward
tracing back        til the scene        
i’ve flashing thoughts of the brutality
   the violence     that must of cussed  
  between persons            
         in fear    fray    and inebriation

down the steps                                     
            my four year old child and I go          
the greasing bleed     in bronze putters  
growing and leadening
on stone labours

glowing citrus    the refrigeration
                          of the underpass
          ‘flips the bird'   at the summer blaze
grey dead coral bricks of urination  
seasoned in deep   beading now cold
the broke up weapon                        
                   candy slates of brittle teeth
glass / bottle / beer /brown
    the neck its' hilt              
     and the main mud of the bleeding

the flies are the thing                                
                         th­at bothers my ‘little nipper’
usually a flapper of queries on repetition
no other queries are raised
     just eager for the vibration
      of train carriages gatling over our heads

i stopper any words i may have on the matter
  he holds my hand with his hot hand
we progress under a port arms                                   
                            procession of caged floodlights
      and walled in by fresh graffiti
fingers dripping   retching for the guttering
Observed 23/06/23

unused -

on thickened walls      painted on over and over
by the neighbourhood watch
a  narrowed burrow
neth jones Oct 2023
traffic trodden crab apples
                            and choke cherries
                 sluice the sidewalk
not one wasp observed

the wasps this year are found
not around    human food or trash cans
( sugar drunk, bat angry or absurd )

this year they thrive around cut grass
and chippings from outdoor furniture finishing

with this appetite
what are they prepping for ?
Zywa Oct 2023
I like the attic,

sitting in the armchair, in --

front of the window.
Novel "De eeuwige jachtvelden" (1995, "The happy hunting grounds", 1999 Nanne Tepper), End (Fourth book)

Collection "Within the walls"
Zywa Sep 2023
It is by waiting

that you can see what the world --

has to offer you.
Novel "L'inventario delle nuvole" ("The cloud inventory", 2023, Franco Faggiani), § 2

Collection "Chance"
neth jones Aug 2023
Four Crows fly over
the rear gunner ***** twice as hard
            to keep his mates
Gaps in his Wings
   from history with a Predator

Clammy weather
                 grey summer rainfall
summer 23

neth jones Aug 2023
the dog night salivates and commands
                                     and commands
but i am abroad from that
  asleep with my family
  under the open windows
as others stew in the clubs, bars
     and packed terraces
summer 23

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