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-

Can I just slip my hand
under your skirt, my love?

Just really quick?*

Next day he wakes up with a thick
black bleeding eye
and has the answer to that line
between his aching thighs.

Good luck next time.

How come you turned me into this:

sneaking around corners
childishly peeking through open windows
so as not to be seen
in an unfit state?

walking too fast and breathing
to slow to keep up with my racing heart
in my chest?

talking to myself when nobody looks
and fearing the nooks and crannies
you might be hiding in?

circulating around the same thought
over and over again
and forgetting what brought us here:

all beauty and lightness gone
all that uplifted us both,
done away with and over
and wiped out for now-

and all of this because I-
because I-

am lost for words all the time
and always-
and even in rhymes I won't find a solution
that could possibly put an end
to all this-

or a beginning.

A pilgrimage does not
start on the pages
you may as well walk
around blocks and into
grocery- and coffee shops

As long as you can say
for sure the way came
from your heart
and you did not
let anyone dictate
a starting point for you

everything's well

Have coffee
cigarettes and cake
on your own path
have everything that makes
the aching fear come
out

Take good advice and
money, wisdom, sweets
take all this from your friends but don't make
doubt to be a thing to take on

And maybe you will meet me
on your way
and maybe we will chat or have
a cup
or maybe you'll walk past
and that is fine with me

And at the end maybe
you ll meet
Yourself
shake hands
embrace
and turn around to see
that is was worth it.

Glimpses
that nobody
verifies
and ice that's
see-through
though it cracks
slightly
underneath your feet

Breed your
ideas
they are
correct
though
premature

You're doing
fine

If you
Externalize
Your pressure
Dear
It will
For sure
Push back to you
And you will feel
Awkwardly pushed away and not
know
Why

My love is your love
is my love is your love

cheers to
whitney man
i wish i had
a kidney just as big
to share so that no one
would hav to die from
kidney shortage.

this is a poem i write
so that i do not have to write
anything else like
hell ya - i would ring the bells of my
freakin academic career end

pass this as word of mouth, please
and don t pass it through the greedy
hands of scholars.

Or i shall holler back in loudest tongue:
copy and paste is not the worst of all
it is this static state that they have flung
around kids' necks
-

See, my Love
sometimes it really
is not you
who fears the things
inside
Sometimes it's
other people
who do not like to be
reminded
of their own
homemade troubles
and of how much
they press the lid
onto the jar

Of how-
with all the force they have-
the hide their scars
because they think
they need
active protection

whereas
you feel

you want

to stretch out hands
and touch

Reclaim those parts
that you don't claim to be
part of Yourself

Restrain your brain
and start empowering
your mind instead of
spamming it

Stretch out your
arms and widen
your territory of
downright responsibility

Reclaim your ****
and shove it through the light-
and own it.

Make the
current
yours
you always were
a child of
water
no fear,
Love
step right
into
the stream
flow with
what flows
with you
and trust
your mind is just
playing protection