Come back

'Come back'
If I could say those words with the slightest whisper
that nobody could hear, that nobody even would suspect
I was thinking them....

and then, somebody would answer 
just thinking it back to me,
on a morning:
'Yes'.

I have never.

I have never tried anything else but this: softening up the stones making fire out of water making rain out of thirst

but in the meanwhile the cold bit me and the sun was a day full of wasps the bread was salt or stale

sometimes I mistakenly took myself for my shadow like you can confuse words with each other or the carcass with the body

often the days and nights were colored the same without tears or quenching

but never something else than this: softening up the stones making fire out of water making rain out of thirst

it rains. I drink. I am thirsty

Man


I think of the man I loved.
do I love him?
how many fears are that?

our plates are getting empty.
on the edge there is a flower
cut from a radish. 
a small exuberant life.

Not for eating he knows.

Poem to read at the beginning of peace negotiations


what you lost in illusions,
you won in habits.

Looking at the reflection
from the lamp in the window.
And suddenly 
knowing clearly:

at dusk
your hands feel softer.

That's the moment
when you again dare to think
about normal things.
like roses or something.

Moët & Chandon


remember?
that bottle of Moët & Chandon
-in my honor-
in your sad room?
your beat down radio
with the paperclip antenna 
playing Tombe la neige by Adamo

that crooked lampshade
that one pair of expensive shoes 
a gift from your mom

I went with you 
to your church
thanked God
when the organ played it's final note
young and stupid- me

you've been dead for 13 years
but that damned brand
Moët & Chandon
always takes me back
for a while 

The bag I’m In

I  enter my  hotel room.

I see  my name on the television,

A warm welcome greeting.

I  turn it off.  My suitcase

next to the made bed,

my face a black mirror.

Downstairs in the neutral bar

nobody  is waiting for me.

And I’m waiting for nobody.

Then, into the night, across the street

which is measureless.  

Nowhere a head that nods,

everybody withering

or drinking.

I  return to my hotel room, now without

the warm welcome greeting.