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‘From the Stairhead’ and other poems by Pieter Drift

By: Pieter Drift


How much darkness do you need
my head is swinging tumbling down
stick your tongue in my ear

May I touch your cunt
while I am reading James Joyce

He is not my favorite writer
because I have never read
his books but I have never
touched your cunt either

Somewhere I have got a self
portrait as a young man
please puppy love
may I touch you now

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came
from the stairhead,
bearing a bowl of lather on
which a mirror and a razor lay crossed

Can’t read any longer
please puppy love
Make a James Choice



The boy was forever
dead immidiatly

his head was pinched
next to his phone
as if he was still busy
with his last words

the car that hit him
drove on without braking
a farewell to arms
fluttered on the road

The first part of
the first sentence
In the late summer of that year
we lived in a house in a village

but the boy was dead
he died on the street
not in a house in a village

and the car went on
and nobody cared



My mistress dances in the smell of unwashed babies
the armpits of her other lovers have turned into green
because she likes young moss in morning dew

Her skates are sharpened for me
the carotid artery is vulnerable
in the inner bend of an ice rink

Am I the lover who is the sweetest
to finally raise my arms
to reach the finish line

snow falls down like confetti
night has fallen
her party has just begun



Bend while you read
want to see what words
your eyes absorb

while you’re in the novel
I lift up your skirt
put your panties down

Murakami is coming!
I say hoarsely
you turn around

My Wind-Up Bird
you whisper
Haruki me please
be my kamikaze pilot

You are Pearl
Spread your legs

come in your lips sing
touch my pearl
receive a little death

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