HOMAGE TO ALL THE CLEANING PERSONS, ESPECIALLY THOSE CLEANING HOSPITALS, IN THESE DAYS OF CORONAVIRUS I AM ALSO IMPORTANT When you rich guys have spent your money, and
SPIRITUAL GRAVITY An obscure symbiosis of wandering through the synapses of stars demands also to bury my soul when I die. Passing through its rough skin, I’ll embrace
EPITAPH FOR JOAQUÍN PASOS He used to walk here, along these streets, without job or position and without a peso. Only poets, prostitutes, and bums knew his verses.
Germain Droogenbroodt, Picture Loek Groenendijk WRITING POETRY To find the fragile balance between silence and word between the road and the deviation between the nameless and the nameable
Painting by Barbaras BilderKunst THE HEART They say it’s the size of my clenched fist. Small, then, but that’s enough to set in motion all of this. It’s
EXILE In the foreign city with an incomprehensible language you are walking along unfamiliar streets; not even the water of the river which flows under the stone