Trees nourish hearts,
and I dyed my hair with the paint of their bark.
Like in Chinese fairy tales,
I don’t eat bird nests
that’s how I learned about such dishes,
probably from Pippi Longstocking.
I heard about bird nests as food from her.
It’s cold now,
so I decided
to make a sauce with vegetables
just to warm up the chill.

I will drink a ****** Mary
with the aroma of tomatoes,
turn on my plasma TV
with useless news
nausea takes hold of me,
and the sand unfolds...

small fantasies,
melted candles,
the taste of starch,
the smell of rotting potatoes,
a blow
to the sore spot
Achilles’ heel.
children of sin
tread a steep cliff.

A fleeting fantasy,
an outburst of love
radiant as Greek myth.
To wake from the haze of sleep
is no simple thing.
My butterfly has flown away.

Stones splattered with mud,
the night cold upon the earth,
barefoot, I walk on muddy, cold stones
I miss the scent of your perfume,
whose fragrance drives me
to bleed myself out.