seed, fire everywhere
sailed out in jubilation
a hidden source

black soil mates the light
blooming grasses around

the words in the barrel
view of blankness in the blue
your pen at the sky

resonance-box for the cuckoo
the tilt-cart rolls along the wood

out of the deep soil
- tired of a long, long rest -
flowers of ironwire

with half drowned heads
plays the wind in the water

six haystacks
sagged wigs on old faces
seen all the distances

the eyes keep wondering
the morning breeze brings a kiss

creep inside the stems
feel the skin burning -
high nests already empty

egg shells on the ground
mirrors follow the nestlings

dishes in the shadow
a secret white in the ditch
small bridges

stitched to all the foliage
the field carries the fundament

goodness of winter
the pond nurses her dead body
wrapped up in blankets

a thrush overturns the night
the tomb lifts itself from the sand

to know without words
far beyond the libraries -
sun sparks in the steel poles

noise of the bustling town
the country-side gives breath

pale wood of violins
drifted ashore
the song is the ocean

the hell-dark pool smolders
bronze the angels' colour

in the depth of the day
heavy shoes through the bent
your flask at the mouth

moved from castle to tent
settled in the rush now

place of arrival
end of a barren march
hair tousled, head confused

a pilgrim without penance
the trodden path just new

to the longest day
a festive journey
the braids dressed up again

giving birth on the way
from weaving-loom to jet plane

under the skirts
cozy in the hairlocks
bugs and beetles

inside, out of harm's way
the enemy is born, at once

to seek for support
answer at the other side
glimpses flutter over

vibration of the megaliths
in the cosmic tidings

a thirst of longing
all the germs in the furrows
wide seat of image

the heat smell of ewes
ecstasy and lamentation

transparent beech leaves
fairies in the branches
marrying the dark light

sudden floods of happiness
the marks on both cheeks

bread on your way
the millstone is the altar
labour the threshing-floor

climbed up the scaffolding
found the ginger bread house

the last dew evaporates
a horse snaps at the clovers
clouds come sailing on

wave with rejoice, slowly
repeat the choruses... again

Written June 14, 1994, at Wolfslaarpark, Breda, in the Netherlands, at an open air art show, "Vista". Words in bold are titles of the works in the exhibit.