I overflow, I absorb,
I push, I retreat — and then
I pour it out.
I gave myself names,
So, I took on forms,
Types, meanings,
Traits I had never worn before —
Unlikely mutations.
The end was
The Beginning of Everything.

II
I materialized,
Threading time and space onto myself.
I exploded,
Giving birth and dying —
In multiverses.

III
I budded through fractals,
Creating illogical gravities.
Where there was supposed to be no life —
Angular feelings emerged,
Flattened stars,
Ellipsoidal planets...

Until Human Beings appeared.

IV
Then everything changed.
They began to put me in boxes
Shouting with anger:
“My Faith!”
“Your Philosophy!”

And yet I am everything:
Existence in non-existence,
A colorful flash,
Undulating silence,
A sigh that screams.

V
Drink me,
Eat me piece by piece,
Discover me — but don't defend yourself
Against denial,
Consequences
And mistakes
When you see a wall in front of you.

VI
Don't take yourself away —
Because YOU ARE
Also, in that
In which you sink

Your Gaze

Your Hearing

Your Thoughts.

In the day of the fever,
at the end of the war,
you'll take up my hand and I'll give up my place--
my customary place--
in the hall, on the floor,

to go riding with you.
Remember the days when willows leaned low
over the canal, where we girls used to go?
And oh, the things we liked to do.
But you, My Love, you already know.

In those days when the voices were sweet in my head,
the willows leaned low, as if putting babies to bed;
there were no air raids,
no rubble, cracked and sharp-edged--
just mama's little angels passed out in the hedge.

So now...what, My Pet?
Kisses to catch up on?
Rooms to let?
Do you want to love me slow and easy?
I'll take all I can get, I'm not so far gone
that I would say no to that.

In the fields at the far end
of the old road to town,
you can see the hulk of the Junker
that the home guard shot down.
I just like to think that it fell
from its bedding of clouds
like a baby...My Baby...
where the willows lean down.

communing with silence
letting go

a short hop
into stillness

carried by other voices
worlds within worlds

It's everybody's job.

Détente, rollback, middle-ground.

Working it until an internal weakness is found.

Surround the town with wire.

Eventually their voices will tire.

It does not work with fixed plans. It does not take unnecessary risks. Impervious to the logic of reason, and it is highly sensitive to the logic of force.

For this reason, it can easily withdraw—and usually does when strong resistance is encountered at any point.

the edge of good bye
soft and slow.

the shiver of night
and you fell into the arms
of night
and hope knelt
like a whimpering dog.

the chair across empty

and in the seams of sleep
i find the words I never spoke....

and in a dream,

i can trace my fingers slowly
along your cheek,
feel the warmth of skin,
and the edges of longing
fall into place.

how far is heaven?