The moon has shown its crescent form; pale but warm light through milky clouds in the night sky. It felt crisp, and yet like soft touch. The moon beams at you, and your heart jumps at its kind expression.
[...]

In the twilight
I feel safe
For this is the only place
Where we can shift

Between two lands.

A sharp knife in
her hands she separates
that which does not belong-
which rejects
integration

She highlights-
like the lines pointing
towards emergency-
the puffy artificial stuff

the rough parts-
those that give you a
real headache trauma

all drama, all that sticks
to you and makes you
heavy-

drop it now
go on
be ready to
explode

Heart full
Of pure love for
People

Let every steeple now
Of every church play
The same melody

And let each ear
Hear what and why and whom
They love

At any time.

Meet me
here and now
to take
my hand
with confidence
my Love

Don't  hesitate
to put
both
feet
on our path

and walk

Come lift your gaze
courageously
and look
at the
horizon

Walk on
Look
up

How you said
whining
You want to go home
How I got it
then
and answered
You can go home soon
How this was
probably
the hardest thing
I ever did

He'll follow you nonetheless
in the shadows
so you might as well turn
face him
see how
crooked and helpless
he looks
how he took on the shape
of your enemies
Go over
Love
hug him
embrace
the stuff you have
externalised
Make this poor devil
stop the chasing

I want to erase
Everyone's judgement except
My own
And say that today
It exceptionally
Hurts
To remember

We'll grow into
where we
already were-
this time
with all our parts
and with our hearts
wide open

One good thing before
I close my eyes tonight
A good-
Pleasant warmth
Around my heart
As I see
The ice
Is melting

If clocks slay time
what good is there,
I wonder,
for time to be slain?

In turning heads
in rising hands
in memory of only
a split image, of land that burns-

and all because
of this time-slaying,
blood-shedding mind of yours

and mine.

Out of the woods stumbles, falls the most lovable creature,
beaming red face half smiling half bewildered and tears everywhere, scratches on the cheeks and forehead and even on the nose,
thick eyebrows covering beaming eyes.
You take first
hesitant
steps, walk towards the tree line, where the grass melts into the soil and touches the tree trunks.
This face, beaming; Your eyes, still a bit fearful to meet.
But oh you cannot really wait.
You take more steps, walk a bit faster now,
watch your own feet as their pace quickens…
still quickens…
How your heart opens, reaches out…

Titles are caught
By little surprises
That reach out to grip
Their ends by a tip
Of the tounge.

Something inside is beating louder, louder still. Hands fingers legs toes already spread as wide as possible and tense of knowing. Spread out and connected, less than a beat from-

This creature is just about to send a vigorous beat out - send it outward - crash - everything that it had acquired
everything out, accumulated within the vibrance of
this
beat
in unbending blazing green beams of fast light -
light that goes through - that does not even know any kind of barrier nor reflection - this light does not need to think to plan to manage - this light is send out to be
something so strong there are no words -

You do not need to fear it though. You do not need to fear it.
It is for you. To be where you are, it sings.
It sings, whirrs, with no mercy.

You think of vines of ivy and something else. Of the light,
traveling where ever it likes. Unapologetically.

I cannot
lie
either
Dear
If one thing runs
through my veins:
It's truth

I don’t see how -
I don’t see why
There couldn’t be across the sky
A paper plane made of blue print
And floating softly,
Possibly?

No.

But why not?
Look, if heavy things fall down and drown
Within the rivers
And if, again, the earth digests
And fills its own round belly
With that same stuff-

Go on.

Then why not have in light and cloudy air
A paper plane that couldn’t fly
Without your will
And mine?

*After this one last conversation
You left my head and,
Hanging by a threat, I still delight
In this sweet memory
Of the impossible.

Sunshine. A small Spanish town in the mountains. Coffee. A table with three old men gambling and smoking and laughing. The town square lively with noise and kids' feet trampling and playing. Two women in a friendly conspiracy talk about their men. In the middle, a spot, and everything is right and as it should be. Freedom. And the sound of a spring with birds' song.

Imagine a kid
falling and hitting
her knee
and disguising
her pain-