Thursday, July 31, 2014
don't be afraid
you may start over
determined, purposeful
or hesitating, fumbling
keep to rules
follow your own way
let go of that hand
or grab on to it
don't be afraid
for dreams too big
go when you know for sure
and if you hesitate wait
how vain the things
you envisaged
the most beautiful things
just happen, the least
are contrived
don't be afraid
of what they think of you
what do you know about someone
if you don't know yourself
don't lose your origins
by committing yourself too soon
life seems alternating
but even love grows accustomed
don't be afraid
you are one of many
and at the same time
there is only one of you
that means
that you have to share a lot
and sometimes have to shout
let me free
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Basket with small fish
What do you think it's like to be me?
What do you think?
Do you think that I go out everyday with my
basket full of small fish
to feed the sharks?
What do you think?
Do you think it's fun to be me?
How would you imagine it's like to go out
every morning with a fucking basket full
of small fish to feed the wild sharks!
How do you think that is and do you think
you can imagine how it is to be like that?
To be like that, do you think you can imagine that?
What do you think it's like to be me?
What do you think?
Do you think that I go out everyday with my
basket full of small fish
to feed the sharks?
What do you think?
Do you think it's fun to be me?
How would you imagine it's like to go out
every morning with a fucking basket full
of small fish to feed the wild sharks!
How do you think that is and do you think
you can imagine how it is to be like that?
To be like that, do you think you can imagine that?
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
she sings
listen how she sings
like she doesn't care
that death sings
backup in falsetto
proudly she keeps tone
even when the light breaks
through the stained glass window
and vowels sink
stubbornly her foot stomps
the rhythm through the floor
she keeps the tremors in check
and casually keeps the beat
with her red polished nails
Monday, July 28, 2014
This is not a drill
Closed the hole in the dike
with a mouthful of words.
No wonder
that darkness like water
is up to our necks, any form
disappearing under
the wavy surface of what is
missing its own form
and roots deeper.
Living on wet feet
the sky, with icy
gusts, scourges our thinking. Flashlight
sees the world with red eyes
and makes us look like devils.
Behind me sirens wail.
Closed the hole in the dike
with a mouthful of words.
No wonder
that darkness like water
is up to our necks, any form
disappearing under
the wavy surface of what is
missing its own form
and roots deeper.
Living on wet feet
the sky, with icy
gusts, scourges our thinking. Flashlight
sees the world with red eyes
and makes us look like devils.
Behind me sirens wail.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Tongue
It's never one word that parallels life
there are many, It's many faces
contorted or fragmented, with bristles
or light make-up, with hair or
a hat that doesn't go with anything
In every face a little box of skin
in every box that opens a treasure
of flesh and blood whereby any
assertion can come to life, and each
antonym with the same force, so that
each word can live its own life.
Can you still understand me when I lisp?
Do you understand me when I put my tongue
between my teeth and bite? No face that
can make all others redundant, no word can
be sufficient unto itself, there are many,
especially those that are about nothing:
nobody can exist in language alone
It's never one word that parallels life
there are many, It's many faces
contorted or fragmented, with bristles
or light make-up, with hair or
a hat that doesn't go with anything
In every face a little box of skin
in every box that opens a treasure
of flesh and blood whereby any
assertion can come to life, and each
antonym with the same force, so that
each word can live its own life.
Can you still understand me when I lisp?
Do you understand me when I put my tongue
between my teeth and bite? No face that
can make all others redundant, no word can
be sufficient unto itself, there are many,
especially those that are about nothing:
nobody can exist in language alone
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
I only know
I only know
that she was born with it
with all that blue
in her eyes
as soon as she knows words
she forgets them
but knowing she does
she folds the sheets
she airs out the blankets
says that she has been gone
for a while
there aren't more words
also the desire is lacking
the desire to form words
because for telling
what happened to her
she's got her silence
she often cries when she hears
what that silence is saying
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
The great Eskimo vocabulary hoax
When I tell my mother that I've read
that Eskimo's only have one word for snow,
and not, like they say, more than fifty,
she doesn't want to believe me, because
she has the house to herself: my father
was not aware of this a century ago and she
wants nothing changed.
She says: maybe the the Eskimo's didn't
want to overplay their hand
I say: we have fifty words for intercourse
and death. Do you want to hear them?
She says: I suddenly fear that I've expected
too much from the weather report.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Summer deceit
You cuddle up against me
in front of the TV
like you just came home
after years of looking for me
while the vegetables go through your hands
you fill the kitchen with your songs
and you feed me your history
If only I could softly
-without breaking the light-
tell you that what you feel
isn't always there
You cuddle up against me
in front of the TV
like you just came home
after years of looking for me
while the vegetables go through your hands
you fill the kitchen with your songs
and you feed me your history
If only I could softly
-without breaking the light-
tell you that what you feel
isn't always there
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Answer
light unfolds
in the room that I immeasurably inhabit
twice you ask why
I know no reason
I don't play questions and answers
I save the light up to the edge of my pupil
while I irreparably caress the dusk
called shadow and paint it
till it disappears
offer and counteroffer
I say
take me
push me to the edge
save what I waste
love the drought and
shoreless stream
and know
this is this
light unfolds
in the room that I immeasurably inhabit
twice you ask why
I know no reason
I don't play questions and answers
I save the light up to the edge of my pupil
while I irreparably caress the dusk
called shadow and paint it
till it disappears
offer and counteroffer
I say
take me
push me to the edge
save what I waste
love the drought and
shoreless stream
and know
this is this
Friday, July 11, 2014
Finiteness
To the limits in the light of
a reading lamp, to the fields of
enshrouded things, to the reflection
of faces unshown, to the relieved
illusion of being excited, to the twisted
words of a child playing, to the shock
of unfulfilled wishes, to the ultimate courage
of stunts never shown, to the poignant
longing of the poet for the pain of vulnerable
submission to her mild look, to the melancholy
of lead shoes for the garden, to the silly
of never before, to the start of a braid, to ground colors,
I had the end but I brought it back.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
How can it be
This inviolable succumbing for nourishment
on the table and in bed, how we fucked up
time for a couple jolts
of stillness.
True nature was rotting away in our
bodily fluids, losing ground on
our depraved bodies, movement became
a repertoire without the chance of being
caught on something real.
We lusted after the smell of decay,
every greedy draw of breath felt
like a small, beautiful revolution
on that fleeting
mortality.
And now, from this diluted life
I try to breath
like then
but time persists
in being what it is.
This inviolable succumbing for nourishment
on the table and in bed, how we fucked up
time for a couple jolts
of stillness.
True nature was rotting away in our
bodily fluids, losing ground on
our depraved bodies, movement became
a repertoire without the chance of being
caught on something real.
We lusted after the smell of decay,
every greedy draw of breath felt
like a small, beautiful revolution
on that fleeting
mortality.
And now, from this diluted life
I try to breath
like then
but time persists
in being what it is.
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