Imagine.
\nThe worst is yet to come. You belch a negation.
\nWe look on with slightly more than average interest. The way you
\nregard an apple that lights up suddenly in your hand. (Don’t drop it.)
\nBodies burn fat. Bet the pounds will just fly off?
\nIt’s the experience as a whole. Also: the cash girl as an allegory
\nof the cash desk. It’s just too much to put into words.
\nThe idea arises, drops its tail and crawls outside from someone’s mouth:
\nas coarse and oily as the world \u2013 a wide audience
\napplauds. It worked! Our comparison learnt to walk but
\nwhat do these images mean to you? The light stares deep into your eyes.
\nIt is a matter of time. Our rhythm expands and doubles up.
\nResistance is futile: a fish has to swim. Ideas remain
\nafloat. We saw you go under in the city canal.
\nWater opens, water closes. The dark dived in after you.
\nWe don’t know the world as we know it. You look like us.
\n(Against better judgment: keep practising one’s own signature.)
\nA great O escapes. Your impatience drove you out of paradise,
\na fruity flavour, a metaphor, the heat of the moment.
\nYes or no? The date on the carton of milk is getting ever closer.
\nAir bubbles well up from the deep. The water spits you out.<\/p>\n
Too late!
\nThe ultimatum passed. You slept right through the alarm.
\nThe rest is history, is that it? It’s the idea that counts. Splendid.
\nNormal skin, combination skin. Imagine: we would vanish
\nforever from your life. (We’re just saying imagine.) All that light!
\nIt hurtles into your home, smashes windows, sows shards.
\nThe abject of sublimity: that will give you ample pause for thought.
\nSometimes you fail to find the words. Do not ask us why:
\nthe rhythm comes first. Your shopping slides past the scanner.
\nThe cash girl keeps smiling and smiling. She looks like you in a way.
\nWe stand there panting in the wind, for all the good it does us.
\nCall this an impasse: we push all your buttons at once.
\nA couple of jokers painted your mirror black. We
\nwill take your call for help into consideration, but much later,
\nwhen the machine halts and you’re ready for the laughing gas.
\nSomething keeps on going wrong. A rush job comes in between,
\ncoffee stains render a name illegible, the telephone rings.
\nOr even: someone fakes an infarction. You vanish from view but
\nfor a brief moment two bright bulbs light up.<\/p>\n
By the full light?
\nJust act like we’re not there. (Ignore the camera’s.)
\nWhat matters is that you behave as naturally as possible.
\nThe signs of impure skin. Teenagers suck hold.
\nMen break in, the woman is crack. The light is panting.
\n(You’re into that, aren’t you?) Those chains are props.
\nIt’s important to create the right atmosphere, a rhythm.
\nBreath defines the room, the roses get drunk in their vase.
\nReal people are a trend. We need to capitalise on that, sometime.
\nImagine: a man and a woman. Imagine: a child. Imagine: a little rip.
\nThis is an immeasurable talent \u2013 freshly plucked from the corner shop.
\nOur crew has been recording for days, but you’ll survive.
\nIt could be anybody’s child. Our concept: flatter than the earth.
\nYou bleach your skin and grab a sun bed. Each hue counts.
\nWhat happened to you could happen to anybody.<\/p>\n
Warning:
\nsome scenes may be disturbing to young viewers.
\nIt’s just another moment in time, of course. It just won’t
\nturn into a story. What does the opening scene show us?
\nA housebroken woman: we could consider liberating her.
\nWith brute force! With utter lies! With exclamation marks!
\nHer braces glisten. She bleeds a little between her legs.
\nAll money is politic. (Jingling.) Who will ring your till?
\nDollar signs as signifiers? Just burn those notes.
\nIt doesn’t really stink. Catastrophes consist of noughts.
\nWe are beginning to equal the image quality of films.
\nI shall not repeat others’ comments about me (John Ashbery).
\nChildren copy children \u2013 a greater need for light, not
\ninsensible to mutation. And that’s on national television…
\nWho knows where the contingency plan is? Smoke lifts, the mist
\nin the mountains of Europe.<\/p>\n
Nobody in sight
\nGrab yourself together. While you still can. The sun as the sun.
\nYou don’t have the heart. We’ll come back to this later.
\nThe images hardly sink in. No man will evoke anything.
\nAll possible meanings are possible, in principle.
\nWe’re disgusted by that healthy blush on your rosy cheeks.
\nPoor old question mark? Sometimes miracles do happen.
\nKenneth Goldsmith copies out The New York Times.
\nIt’s moving, it’s not moving. Play with your feelings?
\nPlagiarism is the nicest word you know. (A word
\nwith character.) Quick question: how much irony can your heart bear?
\nWe suspect more than you think. And it’s good for a laugh.
\nThe noise goes up, dies down. Add names between parentheses.
\nEach detail is crucial, a displacement on the level, a vibration.
\nWelcome in our midst. You were a lovely audience.<\/p>\n
Translations by Willem Groenewegen, 2011. http:\/\/www.willem-groenewegen.nl\/<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n
![\"nederlands-letterenfonds-logo-rgb\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/11\/nederlands-letterenfonds-logo-rgb-300x143.jpg\"){kind=logo}
<\/a><\/p>\n