shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare


Levi Wagenmaker is a (re)tired journalist, living the low-life in the Netherlands' flat mountains for one part of the year, and a little higher up down in the French Creuse department (Limousin region), for another, with three bitches, one of whom a woman, and a younger male, something of a dog also. Fingers stiffer than his upper lip, he writes poetry in English, one of the languages acquired in his younger years, and best suited to his urges in that respect. His poems have been published on the internet more than in print, and Google (Yahoo, Bing, whatever) will reveal what, where, and when.

Levi Wagenmaker

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where gone?

most of my dreams I forget
most of the women when younger
I more than met I forgot
stanzas written I might as mine
recognise even if not
from memory reproducible

where does the imaginary sound
of words written go?
to linger where so do
dreamt voices and fingers
and breasts and thighs
hair and skin?