Viktor Wynd

Archive for - poems

on a faraway beach at night where nobody sees

In - poems

i am not here
in front behind around
the faces stare
the old masters’ portraits of the wicked
the good
the dead

who are they
and why
and who am i?
(i’m not the one who knows)
they’re on the wall
& i am not

they were here once
some of them
here where i am
looking up and wishing they were there

where they now are

the painter & the painted

i like it here

seated looking

i just want to be alone with my thoughts of no one
& no one’s thoughts of me

i want to disappear
to be a wave that comes from nowhere
travels

swells

& grows

& simply dies on a faraway beach at night where nobody sees

the grip

In - poems

————————————————-
in my head the pain
in my knees the ache
in my back the pain
————————————————
the grip

loves empty now
i feel inside me nothing to give
just a steady feeling
as if behind a mask i hide
but long forgotten what or who i mask

————————————————-
in my head the pain
in my knees the ache
in my back the pain

the grip

Words for a Pillow Book

In - poems

A poem I wrote for a proposed collaboration for a pillow book with Marcelle Hanselaar – an artist whose work i’m obsessed with

the dog paces outside the door

(but it’s not the dog i want. tried it once – paws on my back made me bleed)
my sweat soiled sheets
pulled up, pulled over

I CRY BUT I DON’T KNOW WHY

i want, but i don’t know who
i don’t care who any more
i just want.

you don’t have to stay, you just have to do,
then you can go go go

my legs twitch & itch, my fingers scratch and pull,
the clock strikes three, three fifteen will be next
& i’ll still be alone, alone when i sleep, alone when i awake