I know a poet. A very young man looking at the world with a completely different perspective than my own. Through his words I see what I don’t normally look for. I am hearing the Gen Y voice. I admit that sometimes I find it sad and shocking. But life is not always beautiful for everyone. Often experiences are so extremely opposite. But I think in poetry we can come together. We can see each other, hear each other and truly open our hearts and minds at an honest meeting ground. So this morning, I told Quentin that I would publish his words that he sent over spontaneously (all the way from Marche-en-Famenne, Belgium). No we’ve never actually met in person only online. But I think he’s a divine youthful spirit in the world, on his way, on his journey to meet a destiny like the rest of us.
by Quentin Volvert
I seek the dust wandering in time,
Just in time to plant the rose and iris
To take up my blood flowing monsoon
Perhaps intoxicated by the flights of Alice.
Just in time to plant thorns
Who love their venom I hallucinating
Me an old Indian in a sunny vineyard
Singing constantly coaxing me the illusion.
Just time to perch on top of the tree
Observing the ambulance wander among the living kingdom
Of luxuriance. Tell me who is in the ambulance?
Who are the others who pay?
The wind cries of drunken nights I wander and white
In dust time. The time wandering proliferates
In our souls. Behind the comet, seeks its mark
In the dust, leaving the rest, the rest is hunting.
What are one of Quentin’s influences?