Saturday, 17 March 2012


Enkele maanden geleden kreeg ik een berichtje van Dan Godston (schrijver/muzikant)
'Of ik nog op zoek was naar gedichten voor 'Propolis'?

Dat project was al achter de rug, maar we bleven wat heen en weer schrijven over andere ideeën.
Hij stuurde op mijn vraag wat gedichten door met de sfeer van 'oude thrillers, film noir'...

Hij stuurde me 'Spread Out' 'Trash' en 'A sonnet for Edgar Allan Poe'

Perched on the outskirts of the periphery,
just outside the where of how,
you once noticed a crack, the craw, the claw,
the cusp of yesterday edging toward a moment ago.
Lips lost longing, lounging with the lunchbox open,
the aluminum foil unsnugged, sesame seeds & bits of crust
in the tiny foil crinklepockets that look like inverted
reflective mud dried up & cracked into patterns.
She said a serious joke that’s no hoax, not hokey.
What’s your position? I wish I knew. That’s my position.
Too little time for so much trash. Time off, down
time that can never be downed or sunk
like an empty tempus fugit battleship,
a fugitive monarch butterfly, not mockingbird or monarchy,
no mock-up or rehearsal, neither hearse nor umbilical cord
snipped for freezeform finesse. The moment migrates
from the here & now to the nevermore or sweet hereafter.
Bittersweet, not neat or ribbontied.
(published in The Smoking Poet)

Spread Out
…on nights only when they must. – Divik Ramesh

because the ground was just turned over
and dirt clods in the furrows were getting wet
and heavy, because the sun was going down,

because the wind picked up, because the grass
waved iridescent green in the afternoon light,
because the field spread out, because walnut

& poplar trees bordered the field, because giant
sprinklers were watering the crop, because
ghosts moved in & triggered memories

A Sonnet for Edgar Allan Poe"When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image…"  from "The Mask of the Red Death"

Despair is scattered bleeding on the moon.
Contagion novel figure will create.
The massy hammers hung on halls with hate,
And chandeliers will eat a gaunt buffoon.
Opprobrium tints fire-light maroon,
Grotesque green smoke caresses arms of fate
In castles glaring turns to devastate.
A thousand precincts carpet lapses soon,
Phantasms emanated ghastly vows
Whose seven chambers dream laughter’s hue,
And murmer westerly the clock bizarre.
The rushing movement jests, not knowing how.
Indulge the bells that reach new presence blue,
Incessant maddened purloined dagger scar.
(published in Sonneteering, Chicago: Beard of Bees, 2010)

Oorspronkelijk wilde ik 3 verschillende video's (alle drie met beelden uit oude horrorfilms) geflankeerd door 'sfeerbeelden' van mezelf.
Zijn lezingen stuurde me echter in de richting van 1 video met drie gedichten (zoals ik eerder 'Dreaming in Red' maakte voor 3 Howie Good gedichten)

Een track die de sfeer (unheimlich) bepaalde en beelden uit een totaal verkeerde 'opvoedingsfilm' over kinderlokkers maakte het plaatje compleet.
Enfin, 't is klaar...


Woorden en stem: Dan Godston
Concept, camera, montage en muziek: Swoon
Footage: "The Child Molester" (The safety Highway Foundation, Herbert J. Leder)

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