Death of a poet: Marcel Van Maele

A great Flemish poet passed away July 24th. He was a non conformist, baroque and exuberant in his word-choice, a splendid drunk, a friend of my late husband. To honor Marcel Van Maele a poem translated into English and ok'd by him. His words and artwork will be remembered.

And when he spoke

And when he spoke
it was time and he thought
I'll celebrate the years with water and fire
stalk heaven and earth.

A handful of sounds,
muffled cries, mumbles
of Tartarians and barbarians,
comments of prophets.
Moldered gestures and ten fingers
to see.

Rumble of clouded tongues of fire and we
hardly awaiting our survival
hopefully sit on a dry limb while
the omnipotent magic man dances for rain.

With the crack of thunder all is stilled
a petrified salute
a frozen spring breeze.
The poplars standing there, stare
at the full moo, a green longing
covered with a sheen of seemingness.

Respect Marcel.