This article is based on this Dutch article of Martinus Benders:
https://martijnbenders.substack.com/p/dichtkunst-bs-job-met-dating
Poetry: BS Job with Dating
Poetry in modern times has mostly become a mix of job creation and dating. Take, for instance, the bio of this early millennial, where we read that he has been “eagerly fondling poetry” his entire life. And that eager fondling has led him to establish a Flemish Meander-clone called Roer mij (sic!). Our man with the eager hands has now even published a debut collection, which, naturally—how could it be otherwise?—centers on his absent father. After all, all that eager feeling and fondling is only possible when the cat’s away. Kris Lauwereys has clearly never received a corrective slap, hence this therapeutic collection as a last resort.
The pattern is instantly recognizable: in the first phase of your life, you choose poetry as an alternative to Tinder. You don’t have an attractive job, no striking appearance, and your bank account lingers around zero like a persistently failed fried egg.
“I want to eagerly fondle your paintings” does not work well as an opening line on Tinder. Fortunately, there is still the literary world, where you don’t even have to pay and where, in just three simple steps, you can find a partner, a literary magazine, and a publisher, all of whom willingly and eagerly allow themselves to be fondled—simply out of artistic duty.
And here’s how our Kris presents himself:
Writes and devours poetry. Registers and connects.
Expertise: poet and editor.
In his collection Neerwaarts verzet, Kris Lauwereys wages a personal battle with the language inherited from his absent father. He scrutinizes his past and tries to break free from it, according to Poëziekrant. Well, that’s something we’d love to experience firsthand:
How many nights before we become tangible?
In the streets, the mist does not dissolve.
The dog that has been barking for days
still hasn’t found its tail.
Its paws wear circles into stone.
I never quite receive a body.
You pull it off time and again.
There are more mirrors in our house than before.
A cat lays its prey on the threshold and
turns away. Does not return.
I accept the dead bird that flies up
from my hands. No one
can swallow that fleetingness away.
Apparently, it is already autumn—
a downward defiance
whispers us back into the earth.
Kris Lauwereys (1979)
Our Kris has truly delivered a candlelight classic here. And do you know what I find really impressive? That he manages to make even a line break feel sticky. The line break between “defiance” and “whispers” is undoubtedly the stickiest ever published in Dutch poetry. Where is the award for this historic accomplishment?
It surely isn’t easy to debut at the age of 46. Probably because he first spent forty years living with his absent father, eagerly grasping for some poetic foothold in times of housing crises and millennial disillusionment. Or am I just projecting now? Should I also try my hand at therapy poetry?
Maybe I’ll call that future collection Upward Botching, as a cynical nod to Kris’ Downward Defiance.
Eagerly, I reach for my lovely, full-bodied pen.
Best regards,
Martinus Benders, 15-03-2025