Waking up together
under the soft-coloured
life in the round window

The green youth
of the world garden
unfathomable deep

in the mirror
of an old well
filled with magic

above which we, here
below, are on a soft bed
floating in happiness

Waking up together
on the Dream Mountain
above the days

I kiss you because

I am free with you because --


your love does know me.

Madness, vanity,

or genuine love: I will --


be yours forever!

An alchemist melts,

in his soul, counterfeit coins --


down into love gold.

Heaven is my freedom
to get to know you
to look into each other's eyes
and to name the marvels

the little things
ourselves, so familiar
and mysterious

our feelings
that flow through everything
guiding or frustrating us

the interconnectedness of everything
all the parts and particles
and the overarching heaven
of our thoughts

The distance between

I am me and you are you --


is my loneliness.

These old thoughts of mine,

they are hiding like grey moths --


in a curtain fold.

The snow erases

the ****** trail from the fox --


trap on the white paw.

Games must be played
seriously and fair
otherwise it is serious

That's exactly the problem
There are always deal breakers
unreachable

if one wants to call them to order
and cries out in the wilderness
so you have to go higher

higher than the highest
court, to the star
of everyone's consciousness above

the illusions on earth
and the half knowledge
of the restless people

who know no silence
and fill their thoughts
with duties and wishes and

make claims on others
But I raise a shield
against their trumps

The rivalry of

I am me and you are you --


limits who we are.

Longing for the past

is longing for one's youth, for --


childlike carefreeness.

A good warrior

waits and lets his enemy --


take fatal chances.

The wind is weak, yet
there are leaves swirling
before my feet, often
it goes that way for me

What I don't hold, is blowing
away and could fall into pieces
so I jump back and forth
with long arms like a juggler

Should I let everything
happen and just watch
with barbed wire
around my thoughts?

Changes and decay
never coming to an end
I balance on tipping points
in the golden mean

The tension between

I am me and you are you --


is released in bed.

The children jump up

with loud cheers as the surf is --


capturing their flag.

Ruins where once were

houses and streets, where once was --


undeveloped land.

Out of and into
my body, my breath, open
Receiving and emanating

the sun, healing as a saint
is whole in the truth
of his experience

a healed mind
in a healthy body
warm and warming

Offering
of flowing energy
knowing its way

and having no aim
only
only wishing to flow

from you to me
and from me to you
where we are open

Could anyone's love

ever be measured? Maybe --


only when it's lost?

In bed I review

both my future and my past --


I am so in love.

A woman in heat

must beware of tender hands --


that will be handcuffs.

I've been initiated, in classrooms
in workshops and at home
in bed, I knew it for sure, I too

am a devil's child
such a person who, in flesh
and blood, can live on pleasure

who smears soap on his skin
places incense between his clothes
puts on an apron and prepares dinner

Every bite, every kiss
is a yes from my senses
and I can't be more earthly

than, out of lust, jointly
initiating a new human
being into a body

Bodies keep going,

keep seeking a pleasant life --


whatever happens.

Well, what else would you

expect after the Big Bang --


but dissonances?

Sleep, anger, so that

the lightning of your beauty --


can't strike anyone.

Everything flows easily
I also rely on that
I do what I like

In the eyes of others
I sit on a throne, so
they ask for my guidance

and I pay attention
to what they want to achieve
It costs me the freedom

to go my own way
but the better I see
what people do, understanding

the course of lives better
and sometimes I can lead them
I don't have a guide myself

and I always have to
step off the throne
and step back by myself

Time: a kind of soup

in which we are doing things --


and growing older.

There's little time for

love and affection, people --


have to work and die.

I don't need to dream
of emperors and dragons
I'm like them myself
a focal point

of energy
finding free ways where
it desires to flow to
or away from

I dream of
renewing
what is stuck
or run off track

passing on order
to the fire
water, earth
and air of life

As playfully as

ever, he does his duty:


naughty boy Grandpa.

A bramble-bush once

viciously jumped at me when --


I fell off a tree.

Isn't the North Pole just

what its name suggests, I mean:


a pole in the north?

Hair brushed smooth
snorting with confidence
looking out at the world

Old issues
to settle, entrances
to force, risks to take

Manoeuvring
through the day, peeping
for opportunities

for good works
in my mind already
performed a hundred times

Resting next to my horse
trusting in my strength
my moral strength

Giving attention

is contrarily tough, wow --


So exemplary!

I want to do it

myself, not get it from you --


It would remain yours.

You do not want me,

it is empty inside me --


There is room for you.

We slept together

sometimes, he liked that, although --


I kept my distance.

From now on, I am Mama
just as Mama always
will be my Mama

and as many women are
suddenly letting on that they are
But not of my child

And not with my discomforts
which they can't alleviate
with their wise prospects

I listen to my child
He teaches me baby talk
and what it means

to be Mama from now on
never just myself again
always with attention

for him, motherly love
is, throughout life, so much more
than worry and care

We are daydreaming

in the imitation cave --


of the Grand Hotel.

She is eager, wants

to have me, yet not give up --


anything for me.

After this long walk

it would be so romantic --


to give him a hug.

In the kitchen, you put
some water on, set out cups
the kettle sings, the tea smells
and I look around, stroking
the velvet of the couch

thinking of the smooth sheet
on your bed, of the softness
of your mattress and my body
stretched out on it
naked as my hand

If only it doesn't happen
that you fall in love with me
and we let yourself go
in feelings that
will end our friendship

We've known each other for a long time
You know who I am
when you come into me
to be, to be
my home

These memories are

feelings, with vague images --


floating over them.

It's good that he doesn't

think I'm special, as long as --


he notices me.

In the eyes of the child
I read what it thinks of me
what it sees or guesses, how
I can be a lioness

can be everyone's friend
in word and deed
ready every day
jumping over any ravine

to the place where I want to be
finding of itself new questions
in the eyes of that child
with which an adventure begins

The air is jingling

in three voices up there, and --


new worlds open up.

Hospitality:

it requires attention, care --


and an open heart.

I know my muse
she's not a woman

who only needs to be
available for the fantasy
I project onto her

She is active, she creates
what I bring forth
she keeps measuring

my intentions
Oh, if only I could think
of something

to bring her closer
touchable
without her petrifying

into a dead sphinx
dead earth

I am creating

bodies of words for feelings:


living their own life.

The stucco-flowers,

painted over too thickly,


resemble planets.

Sometimes the o sounds

open, sometimes like thunder --


rolling down the Alps.