Tilburg Virtueel

Ridgwell Cullum

Ridgwell Cullum

Zus, voor hufterbeton en matrooskrijt of volle vijver,
vertel ik wat het is met het stuk opiniedreun.
Verticale jongste sist, “de distel, de hommels,
en haast je naar Delft.”
Hol, te gepiekerd: galjoen, lantaarn, wijde saus en Kriek;
Zundert toetert gewoon, heel in de verte.

She thought of the monotonous grind of her life.
The little flat amidst the stucco of Pimlico,
her two young sisters at school, her mother
and herself,
all to be kept going on the paltry five pounds a week
she earned at the Colonial Theatre.

Divorce and our bloodthirsty kind of flies
flit. Vladimir struggles; the film’s a treacle flow.

It’s under a distance; it could hum "Commander,
hunt swordfish.”
Hoard bees, your cloak on; poetry’s final squeak
churned England’s Tears, “huh”.....

Sister, crouching like a devil.

Zus, belandt op een troosteloze master race B-bed

This vessel movie moves past lazy bees
On the dirty lachrymose Thames,
wiens vissen sparren met dogma.

The distel distance nadert,

thru little sister’s muscular
ham legs and
c – o – n – c – r – e – t – e cunt.