stiletto crow - poetry show

May Sketches

From Simon’s 7th floor we see fullness of trees.
We send our precisely cautious understanding,
the balance of our mind
like a paper plane towards creamy smoke
from 2 chimneys over near Dongen,
distant other-industry.

17 letters are branded on the skyline above Koopmans,
logo in the sky with dyads, dripping graffiti, crucified for pride
and bucking under-renown.
On the site of the Chile mural, FEB letters,
indestructible,
like the stuff the bad cyborg was made of
in Terminator 2.

Prisma glares sagely at Warande, insect-frame roof aerials tickling
complex air, smell of tyres, cheese pastries and oak leaves
in the atmospheres.

Plains of pebbles unite UvT roofs.
but unique debris defines each
(a smashed coffee cup or two on the roof of the SSC
and Mr Fantastic’s long dried-out husk).

At ground level, medleys of jeans
and this season’s boots and Birkenstocks,
student hairstyles in evolutions not revolutions,
gentle plagiarism of genres.

The wheelbarrow man wears denim too but he’s a hole in his left thigh
from hauling sand from the side door to P’s koffiekamer
to the entrance to the Univers.

In C17, Marga opens a brown envelope with a class list
but the sender has forgotten to sign it.
The fountain holds its note though;
its tripping splashing warms faces.
It’s May.