#oldage
We stroke the rough bark
of the two along the path
here and there a branch battered
by storms, a tendon torn
the colon shortened, the toes stiffer
and more crooked in the ground
a lifetime stored
in their body, every fiber
knows it and retains it
A few steps away
a gripper dumps heaps
of earth into the roadside pits
where their neighbours have been
cleared for young plantings
it is not a graveyard here
but the living world
of an avenue to the past
shifting in time once again
May 15
May 15, 2026 at 3:46 AM UTC
It doesn't go automatically
but it almost goes by itself
flowing through smooth beds
around each other's discomforts
and sensitive spots
towards silent wishes
Everything in its usual place
that helps, and keep eating
of course, seeing enough sun
not to become gloomy
or dream away
in a romantasy
of eternal youth
happily ever after
from spring to spring
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 4:12 AM UTC
Flurries of city
noise between the two armchairs --
On the dumping ground.
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 4:11 AM UTC
Older: I know more,
and I know I like it less --
than fantasising.
Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 2:40 AM UTC
How small can life still
be interesting?
How small can my world
still be big enough?
How small can I
make the pain and
remain clear
remain in shape
remain a human being
with the little
that still functions
miraculously
in my body
in my head
in social care?
Can anything cute up
the days
myself and
my future?
Perhaps you?
Dec 15, 2025
Dec 15, 2025 at 4:02 AM UTC
Doing a lot gives a lot
It does not matter
whether you use muscles
or just smell or listen
Doing a lot gives a lot
to think about, it bounces
thoughts around between
should, want and can
or it crawls from image to image
until your worn body rests
and your mind stands still, at most
making an inventory of old information
where the indexes are still legible
and ruminating what has been stored there
Nov 15, 2025
Nov 15, 2025 at 3:29 AM UTC
I recognise bits of the road
connections are gone
signposts are still missing
The numbers can be counted
the seasons, homes, friends
The rest is a dream cord
of desires and parties
unrequited love
and perfect moments:
memories in the deep
black, lighting up
as floating islands
with graceful peaks
of adventures
a journey
through the abysses of the night
that make children cry
and me?
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 4:33 AM UTC
Their luster gone
Increasingly, they are
falling apart, so small
have the fixed stories become
which, once sifted out
from the daily events
represented
my life and identity
And fewer people
still know the details
that make me a real person
Fortunately, I haven't become
those stories of my life and
better off with the reality
of my gradual
disappearance
Oct 29, 2025
Oct 29, 2025 at 4:36 AM UTC
Mama is thin, but
against me she is heavy --
like an anvil-block.
Oct 29, 2025
Oct 29, 2025 at 4:32 AM UTC
Old women in black.
They nod, telling their dreams and --
storing them away.
Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 4:09 AM UTC
A tail of something
that swam here, the beginning
of welling blood
I spy with my little eye
Streaks and something alive
A faltering world
Or am I looking too quickly?
Past it, over it?
Am I even looking?
It would take an unliveable
number of years
to be aware of what I perceive
I lack the overview
to select what's important
and I wonder why
the unimportant should be
important to me now
Or am I just slower?
Oct 14, 2025
Oct 14, 2025 at 11:16 AM UTC
Will anything of me remain? Would I
like to hang in a museum, with name
and age or anonymously
as Woman With Blossoming Branches
better known as The Covered Flower?
A continued existence, as an iconic person?
The photo is still beautiful
You just had to take it
Yes, that's what I looked like then
And when you look at it
who or what am I
to you?
And when you look at me now
am I different, more fragrant
with over-ripeness?
Or do you not dare
to take a good look, are you
not ready to acquiesce yet?
Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 4:15 AM UTC
10 was old to 5,
30 unreal, and 60
Archaic. That was really
Magic.
When you age
Like a tree,
It takes roots that stretch to hell
To brace you against life's storms.
Knowing you have time to waste,
Knowing you'll waste it -
This is worse than being old
Living in the shadow of the fact,
What remains.
Eventually the past will eclipse all light,
It will put out the Great Fire whose embers
Are the few remaining stars, and flames
Are the withering galaxies, and the rest is char.
Eventually, the Universe
Will go to sleep
Too.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 5:24 PM UTC
Gum. I,
Breath freshener. I,
Sweet and tasty, till
Spit, forbid
That heavenly warmth
Of being used,
Onto the winter earth,
Ground into flatness,
Losing my wrinkles,
My color,
My soul.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 3:05 PM UTC
Getting old: I look
carefully at the flower --
Today I still can.
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 4:26 AM UTC
Down in the yarrow
princes and princesses eat
the green, yellow, and red apples
(toddlers get apple sauce)
Teachers share them all day
they ask questions and practise
answers, always something new
under the sun, and then we sleep
under the moon and the stars
From childhood I hang
my branches full of apples
until they can't hold the weight
and collapse under the burden
or break from old age
Yes, I have grown old
Searching for connections
I get lost more and more often
(and I eat apple sauce again)
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 3:54 AM UTC
We haven't made any gold
and are sitting in the stench
of 50 buckets of *****
Trophies surround us
from the seven-locked cabinet
as a battery around our happiness
Tonight we borrow luxury
for a debt to the future
and we drink to bygone days
We stuff gnawed bones
into our nostrils like jewellery
and eat comfort cake with whipped cream
The party is drawing to a close
the mattresses are ready
for after the drinks bath
Everything is oh so interesting, we talk
louder and louder, listen how superbly
we imitate animal sounds
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 4:01 AM UTC
The beautiful vase
is old and porous, but still --
it's full of flowers.
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:59 AM UTC
I was young, I went
to experience grand beauty
on hands of success, and now
I walk on clouds
of electric light
glitter and admiration
celebrating my retirement
in the heaven of parties
star among the stars
the smiling beautiful people
their pearls, botultox and gel
in semi-gray hair, tireless
in time to the brass
Nobody needs to go to the toilet
we are hovering over the beds
in which despair tosses and turns
because of the days and the years
of dreamed lives, and we dance
the conga since we are going
nowhere
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 4:04 AM UTC
On week-days, in the evenings, I pass
windows of people who know nothing:
the couple who've been kissing for ten days
and waiting people everywhere
Nowhere I find the grand beauty
I want to live for
I walk around to share my melancholy
memories of my plans and yours
We're having a good time
with pretended complacency
and we dedicate ourselves
to the sweet doing nothing
We chat and are distracted
After the first birds
I feel sad and incompetent
for the days in the bright light
the decay of our lives outside
the magic world of the night
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 3:17 AM UTC
I am old, I am
quietly watching the world --
Only now, it's mine.
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 3:16 AM UTC
In the last darkness
before dawn, after the party
I wander through the city
my familiar city
The sky is clear
I have no idea
what I would want
The river glides by
Empty quays, no traffic
silence around the monuments
and everything neatly swept
Naked people made
of marble and paint
live in the museum palaces
The princesses play cards
in the basement of the servants
and my steps resound
in the floodlight of time
Aug 30, 2025
Aug 30, 2025 at 3:06 AM UTC
Old memories can't
handle any more input --
than one's own subjects.
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 3:43 AM UTC
Knowing each other
from before, and not knowing --
but knowing life now.
Aug 10, 2025
Aug 10, 2025 at 2:54 AM UTC
The professor's book
is discounted, outdated --
at his retirement.
Aug 3, 2025
Aug 3, 2025 at 2:52 AM UTC