stellar hellish heat,
earthly spread lassitude
- black hollowed core.

Counting blessings
for gratefulness.

Stumbling on zero.

Blinded by aching.

Petit à petit,
je rentre
dans mon cercueil en fer.

Essoufflée,
à bout de larmes,
épuisée par l'attente,
ce souhait impossible
de le voir
en courant
pour me retrouver,
je chavire
en rêvant
de son sourire.

A bout de larmes,
étourdie
par cette peine aiguillée,
je bégaie,
sûre que mes mots
ne servent plus à rien.
Je rentre dans mon cercueil,
tout en disposant du barbelé
autour.

Et je ne regrette que
cette brillance
dans mon coeur,
son sourire,
qui est venu
sans que je ne l'attende
me rendre amoureuse
à jamais.

~~~~~~~

ON THE EDGE OF TEARS

Little by little,
I go back
into my iron box.

Breathless,
on the edge of tears,
torned by the waiting,
this impossible wish
to see him
running
to meet me,
I sink
dreaming
of his smile.

On the edge of tears,
dizzy
by this stinging pain,
I stutter,
certain that my words
are no longer meaningful.
I go back
into my iron box,
barbwiring
all around.

And all I will miss
is that glow
in my heart,
his smile,
that came unexpectedly
making me fall
forever in love.

I wish
I could fly
high

above
myself
above
the wordly littleness

and see
my heart has
but a regular human size

and the gold inside
glimmers as much
the same

and all vanity
and presumption
forgetful time
will equally
devour.

I accept to stand
unseen
on the sidewalk,
on the river bank.

Random shadow for
playful drawings in the sand,
silent stir to birth ethereal fulness,
playground
to be left behind.

Hollowed.
Vacant.
A window-sill
for passing songs.
A borrowed
beating heart.

I accept to stand,
in scattered craving
for the wind
beyond.

[05.09.13]

You love me?
You loved me not.

A white wall,
a shadow,
a swing.

You love me?
You loved me not.

Red petals
whiped into the white.

Ripped chest,
open wide.

Winning frown,
she weeps not:

See?
You loved me not.

for SVERRE G. HOLTER, min venn
[04.06.1979 - 08.08.2018]

the harsh crash
of ice,
mountain climber,

out of breath.

horizon:
the sky line,
rocked in a sea of still.

whole hearted
chant
of a viking:

thrive
and love.

a core.
forever.

In the steamed mirror,
I looked my mother in the eyes:
*well, hello there, what?,
yeah, we did it,
messed it all up again."

a bell, twice, vacuum hiss
the elevator squeal
                                  should've known
                                  should've known
high heels
above
                                 moving away
laughter
bikes bumping
down the stairs
                                a bell, twice, vacuum hiss
                                the elevator squeal
can you help me
can you help me
                                banana and cinnamon cake
                                bed sheet lashing
kitchen closet bang
                                    leave me
                                    have me
a bell, twice, vacuum hiss
the elevator squeal
                                   a telephone calls
                                   insistently calls
a door slamming
                                   a bell, twice, vacuum hiss
                                   the elevator squeal
stay
help me
help me to die
                                    plastic bags
                                    groceries falling
                                    angry gross old voice
a bell, twice, vacuum hiss
the elevator squeal
                                      steps
                                      rustling in the hall way
a door opening 
                                      no one
                                      would you
a door closing
                                       water filling a bath tub
a bell, twice, vacuum hiss
the elevator squeal
                                        *******

It rains.
A truffled scent
glitters
in dead leaves,
naked trees.
Transudation
into the depths
of the night.

as i grow my waist line
and tiredness yawns
over all the to-do's
and the days going by
add infinites of idontgiveashit

one thing i know for sure

this lover i did not kiss
this embrace i could not reach
this charm in that unbreakable mirror

will be the only story
i'll believe to have lived

and in the stupor of the decadents
i will be smiling
i
me
as he would have seen me
if it could have been

il joue sur son luth

des lunes ambrées
tournent en rond

une par une

la jongleuse
les lance

une voie lactée
opalescente

le clair de lune

haletante
la jongleuse se noie

~~~
he's playing the lute.

she takes
the amber moons
turning round
and round,

she juggles.

one by one,
they turn into
a milky way,
opalescent,
the moonlight

- a lake,
for the juggler
to drown.

iced finger tips
wrapped in hands'
warmness

stired, not shaked, leaning

salty neck line
light aroma of hey
freshness of ruby cherry silk

gaspillage
of entwined drive

flambé

empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper...
a dew glitter, frozen dawn, the bird flies.
waving branches, a single tree, so unclear,
empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper...
shattered threshold, rendered abyss, the skies,
blind hands, trembling flame, the river dries.
empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper...
a dew glitter, frozen dawn, the bird flies.

i do not know
how to pray
or whom to pray to,
but, sometimes,
it feels like praying,
to wish for people
to be happy
and fulfilled.

it feels like praying,
sometimes,
when i am capable
of choosing not
to judge and instead
i smile a sincere smile,
and i watch their prejudges
dissolve in the lack of attack,
their eyes discovering what
their heart is feeling.

then, those times,
when them and i
grow to be as kids
in a playground,
we gather in our humanity
and it feels like praying.

it definitely does.

a golden dusk

this blindness

rising a sun
in the sidereal night

my vortex

spiralled path
from nothing
to nothing

a golden dusk

delusion

11.11.14

My spelling
has to be wrong.

I write love
and you don't see it.

vacuum.

a stop motion,
on senselessness
of expression.

suspension of self.
cryogenic life,
no cord to the inner core.

i miss a dream.
the one you are.

In a angry windy day,
an ordinary tree grizzled away:

- Unlucky me,
grounded to this soil
of such poverty, all it gave me
is this unattractive
dim green!

- You fed on me,
tree,
- rumbled the grounded
humus -
*but it was up to you
to lively up your green
if a green foliage
should be yours.

placid mirror
in the colding sun
reverberating yellow
in strokes of orange

a rusty dark floats
with a bluish touch
of an absence

the oarsman
is not there

the night cloak
roars nearby

For you,
i slowly
unwinded time
to hand you
a thread,

the labyrinth
where you
trustingly
unravel your heart.

For you,
i hush the spindle
in my empty hands
that will weave
no more,

the thread this whirl,
and i fade,
as i let
time rewind.

older.

(not elder)

still.

older.

my kingdom
for your kiss.

hilarious,
when you try
to ink it
being a foreigner
to a language...

you search
for the round spell
of a word
and to your mind
comes, oh my,
only one
- squash!

but oh!,
the buttery sound of it,
the reddish orangeness of it,
the elyptic splashes in wood
scented fields, november cold
mornings, that yearn
of a smoking cheminy,
home, others' home, there.

what was there to be inked?
i don't recall it.
i got squashed.

À nouveau
je marche
les yeux baissés
je me cache

À nouveau
je demeure
immobile
au bord du fleuve

Cette fois
je suis sûre
de ce que je refuse

Cette fois
je connais
le goût
de l'horizon

Et à nouveau
je le refuse.

found a word,
down the road:

dandelion.

and, in a snowy way,
the  autumnal spring

- delusionnally -

took the girl
in a sway,
blowing away

her last match,
a blur of orange
in the smoking grey.

my shadow
unfolded,
captive
of a blind night.

dazed,
straying,
time feeds on days,
unanchored.

Time:
folded, masked,
heartless - a nonsense,
drifting masks,
drowned ghosts.
And then
for one minute - a second -...

Golden ogival arches,
morning light, a bird song,
unfolding heart.
Time, a
stardust sprinkle,
lightness of danseuses,
gestures of magicians,
gentle rowing on a placid lake,
love phantasy...!

Brief waltz by one,
tempo gravissimo,
string puppet stuttering...
Hush now, hush.
It's sleeping
time.

once upon a time,
she alighted
on atlas' shoulder
and softly
told him a story.

as he unfolded
his path going
west, she unfolded
words, tracing the
east, for the sun to rise,

and then she sighed
and he held her, made
her his night sky
- heaviness of light,
folded heart.

ocean...

its sound.
the word's.

a suspension
as if you'd
hear your name out loud
somewhere in nowhere,

a rumbled whisper
as if you'd
stumble and fall,

the seashell out of reach,
there, on the edge.

ocean...

First,
i broke my legs,
seemed you wouldn't stand
me being on my feet.

Then,
i abandoned my hands,
all my dids had fawls,
you pointed it out.

My voice wrinkled
as hoarsely you wanted
me quiet.

Finally,
i slipped my zipper
and let go of my will.

The day that bird
crossed my estrangement,
i took the golden azureous (")
of its passing by
and gave birth to myself.

Trying out my wings,
you now gaze at me
and still your blindness
will not allow you to see.

To love is a clarity,
a insight,
an offer of sanctuary
to our lover.

Would you know it...?

The wind claims my wings.
Irisdescence
composes my chant
and my chant summons life.

And i leave.

(for a.)*

mapped wishes
handed over,
blown into the wind

a path of gold
in dawning roads

sanguine brilliance,
pearled frailty

fallen

flattened
crackling

a tracery
of bones or hands

reaching out
for the ******
of a beginning

Ah the intimacy of houses
in lit windows
scented kitchens
clothes hanged out to dry

Ah the intimacy of houses
seemingly cosy
and quietly caring
in the twilight

Ah the intimacy of houses
a chair on a fallen porch
foretold absentees
ah the intimacy of time

A spring like afternoon.
So,
I walked my thoughts
in the sun

and picked
here and there
a glance
of other-selves

(the ripest ones
decaying in fallen
houses, the left overs
of bygones and forget-me-nots).

Filled myself
in reddish and bluish,
a euphoric sight flying.
Then, my doorstep.

let it go, the autumn
leaf, blown
by wintry winds.

let it go, this whirl,
its shivering
in the night.

ah, beyond,
there, where
there is nowhere.

what does one mean
in who ever's life,
i have to wonder,

'cause it's like
someone's coming
to your home
yet not seeking you
there, although
you still try to be
visible.

maybe
you shouldn't care.
but how can you
not to?

i gift you
words
and appear,
naked,
in front of you,
fearing.

from the mud
a bluesy mood
bruisings coloured
in butterflies
fire flight
all but smoke
this choke
short circuited
words from
a hat
withdraw
the shorter straw
her fate
the cave
no translation
available
for the opacity
of that night

Approaching
the bridge deck.

In the back of my neck,
that feeling:
to be bursting out
of a howling whirling womb

and to come to life
for the first time.

A sudden silence
cloaks klaxons and brakes.
In the metallic height
wire-dancers
hang together
- ghosts
weaving a iron web.

I forget them.
The water below
rocks
a craddlesong

and the riverbank
again is the wild freshness
of green and blue,
frontier undisclosed.

The tunnel lies ahead
to bury my sight

and it sips me
back into the
immured swirl,
colourful masquerade
of lit agony.

rien qu'une lumerette,
cette brièveté

la pêche l'été
le jus plein les mains
la langue adoucie

rêver de toi
à en brûler
même s'il fait noir

étincelle légère,
cette brièveté

~~~~~
Blurred

just a spark,
this briefness

a peach in summer
juicy hands
sweetened tongue

to dream of you
to burn in there
even if it's so dark

a frothy spark,
this briefness

slithered
harangue,

crow's nest's
caveat:

quo warranto,
Echo,
obliquity weaver...

All is nothing,
we all come to know it,
hélas.

Truly hellish
when a nothing
becomes everything

in its senseless
wholeness,

the wave's,

splashing.

Emptiness,
though,
sandy like,
in and out.

wintry sun,
brief,
byplay yard
shadowed in cold

and yet

powdering
golden tones,
drafting
a fire, a mirage.

heyday adjourned.

ethereal hibernaculum
of the light,
tilting floret in
full-blown decay.

[for Gautham kandula's challenge]*

Sweet child, new born baby!

Feel this love I wrap you in!
All your life long
you'll look for it,
this filled silence
where you are, entirely.

Feel the day light,
take a first breath of the earthly scent!
Through your life,
you'll forget you're alive
and be fed on dreams of immortality.

Listen to my lullaby,
learn this tale of love and loss!
You'll be the hero in my story
as you'll live up to yourself,
both of us accomplishing
our mortal destiny.

Hush, hush, sweet child...
Do cry, when you have to.
I tell you:
you'll also know laugh!

I take to a boil
the creamy consistency
of christmases gone by

and hang out
the lights of
stirred recollections.

I set a table,
a feast to share,
those who won't show
outnumber the presents.

I take a place
within the play,
rehearsing the blurring
of me. I sit amongst

those who won't show.

he laughs at me,

old, edentulous, wrinkled.

excruciating, the smile,
excrescent.

ecs, ecs, ecs
- the laugh,
cacophonous,
cacographical.

the ruff of an eddy,
abysses of exasperation,

the laughter of time,
voraciously lustful.

Dawn,
birthing the world.

Light and dark,
the color hue
- hills and plains,
trees and gardens
and roads and country roads
and old cored places
and not so old ones.

Breeze,
warmness,
cold,
shivers
and melancholy.

Just it all.
Inhaling it.
Figuring it
as a last sight,
exhaling.

time walks.
giant steps
carving
an absence,
a heart shaped
niche.

time walks.
rosary stones
ground
into nothing.
not an echo
nor a breeze.

The fall of the night.

A walk,
shades of fog,
scents of burning woods.

Winter is coming,
yes.

In my heart,
not a single line.

My singularity,
why have you deserted it?

Brushes of red goldness
devoured by a sky of dark.

i can go
on my own
all through
the night

but if you
would hold
my hand

there would be
a kind of a purpose
for walking
the dark