I am beautiful,

for me, and for anyone --


who keeps it secret.

Dear grandma, I remember you

and a few of your stories

of the war, the little big

dramas to commemorate



my children only hear them half

because of the bombardment

of images of wars far away

daily in the news



so

we play reality today

to feel, to know

how rending it is



I am the grandma and my daughter

is her mother, the street breaks

after a shot, the air creaks

and we hold our breath

The forget-me-not

on your grave sows on your grave --


more forget-me-nots.

The longer ago it is
the suffering, the cold earth
the deeper you can feel

how bad it must have
been, the more hope
you have to add

to the certainty
of the confidence that
"le jour de gloire est arrivé"

You hear the hearts cheer
before the killing
before for silence

After the fight and the digging
there is rest
in peace, the peace

in which we must believe
with all our heart
our torn heart

There are lots of stones

in my own cemetery --


heavy on my thoughts.

Deep into the night
they felt like winners
The blood had flowed
and it was not theirs

But at dawn
the corpses lay down
with the frightened women
and crying children

in their heads
Occupied, nothing wants to
flow in their bodies
Betrayal! Betrayal!

Ghosts and rats
lick the anger
and play hide and seek
in the maze of lies

about the heroic battle
for the fatherland
and its powerful fathers
with their forked tongue

Our club is losing,

hear the little flags rustle --


like a cold shower.

Even the most beautiful girls
cannot keep our sons at home
....We only know half
....of their dreams, not the other
....half that will not come true

Oh, girls (poor girls)
will they take over there
....Without obligations
....and without resistance
....Struggling bleeds dead

They spit on their worker's hands
look forward to striking fists
....Peace is not their world
....They are no longer children
....and they laugh at our worries

On our ******* we fed them
with peace
....They have grown from it
....developing in homeliness
....but now they want something else

Shoulders to shoulders,

the flower bursts open, spurts --


away in snap-weeds.

Under the Peace Flag
there is the most freedom
to continue the war
referring to provisions
in the Treaty of Peace

There is always a story
to tell about the past
an era to choose
in which is founded
what was lost, a Golden Age

to which the people are entitled
and in which they will arise:
everything will be fine
as long as you have the last word
and silence the dissenters

those traitors of the truth
and the ideals of the revolution
Fight for equal rights
of our oppressed brothers
Free them!

Restore the territory
the foundation of the wealth
and the power of the leaders
then they might grant you
a large statue

Little waterfalls

along my long strides, hear this --


music fantasy.

With a gentle urge

the drums of love are beating --


open all my doors.

In my sleep, a wish

fay is tipping on her toes --


over my sweet dreams.

Then I will
no longer gasp for breath
risk to open the window
and cry out

yes then I will
take off my clothes
every night without worries
and sleep relaxed

then I will
no longer see fire-barrels
and banners in the museums
only **** switches and red buttons

then I will
receive uninvited guests
and everything I wish for
because long ago

now
I have made a start
not to listen anymore
to harsh words

now
I carefully absorb the exudate
wash the blood-stained cloths
and convert my lookout posts

now
I pick up the broken eggs
clean up free of charge
now I have made a start

What I would do, I

must, and hope, want, shall, can, may --


begin to do now.

These circumstances, difficulties
and your behaviour
lately

I don't know myself that way
although I see a bit more
who I am, and you, we

and how things are going
Unsolicited
I just have to

make the best
of it again
What should be different?

Two, three things
now you that you ask
If it's possible

And then
make the best of it
together

That is how we are

a couple, by pretending --


we're not a couple!

Under the cedar

next to my house is a bench --


for new encounters.

We're walking along,

I see what you see, and I --


point out what I see.

Please, do come, will you?

As quickly as possible --


I'm itching for you!

Everything has already been said
you long for good times
just like me
....Do you want to leave
....and sleep with friends?

You are afraid
it's not gonna be OK
you wouldn't know how
....Your face says: leave me
....alone for a while

-----------------------------------------

Stay, we are married
to have contact
that is normal
....an intimate harmony
....of your and my normal

We still discover pieces
of the world together
and new bits of ourselves
....we can still continue
....to grow together

I want to be welcome
with you, seriously
not just saying nice words
....without talking
....about what we have promised

I want more tenderness
than the pampering baths
of impetuous energy
....I want our love
....not to be jammed

in unreachable places

Come, take your clothes off

and clamp yourself, I'll give you --


my arms and my legs.

I looked at his hands
as if there was blood on them
and I cursed him
He stayed calm and read

in my eyes the shape
that he had to put on
to win me
His amorousness pushed boundaries

We had long conversations
and made future
plans for the world
as it should be

with us shining in the middle
as a sun that doesn't need to
be applauded, but simply exists
to share richly what it has

The planets follow their orbits
understanding and friendship drop down
and our hands do the work
Sometimes bleeding

When the work is done

we sleep, nowhere, timelessly --


lying in our love.

If love is all, the real
reward that's gonna heal
us at the journey's end
when life and love are spent

  if love is all of us
of you and me, a plus
a everlasting spark
a light in any dark

  if love is all, you're here
even if you go, you're near
there's no goodbye and no
duty left, no sorrow

  if love is all to know
whoever, then you'll go
together, every meeting
creates a lot of meaning

  if love is all we heard
so clearly, word for word
resounding in our hearts
it says we're not apart

  if love is all from you
the only thing you do
a present from the sun
you grant to everyone

  if love is all, connect-
ing me to you, detect-
ing it spontaneously
in human history

  if love is all, so grand
that you live in it and
it makes you understand
the whole world's in your hand!

The Guanyin statue:

her eyes have lost their colour --


but they see my need.

Be careful, my love

is heavy, you will get tired --


and then you'll leave me.

Not to know myself,

to keep surprising myself --


yes, that's what I love!

Beyond the ideas

of we and they is a field --


where I wait for you.

I do enjoy it

to walk in the noisy city --


and being the noise.

I hardly dare to

do something, afraid to be --


a dupe of myself.

I must be alone

to be able to ponder --


what I am feeling.

I like to see him,

he is sweet, but he wavers --


quickly shuts the door.

To want what you do,

to do what you want: I think --


That's the life I want.

I am a doer,

not a talker, and I choose --


to play wait and see.

It is an insult

if you want to fight for me --


As if I am weak!

Men remain boys, scared boys
With a questioning face you take them
by their fat finger
It's easy to break

But sometimes they get wrapped up in their game
Then they sleep badly and wake up with a start
from the dreams in which they practise
what they are planning

By day they can't smile
They are busy or absent
and when they leave they shout
that they love you very much

They take it so seriously
It's so important and urgent
that they can't talk about it
until their success is assured

Our silence is their conscience
We can't do more
until it has failed
despite their good intentions

I do, yes I do,

but it has to be my way --


otherwise I'll leave.

Men remain boys, but
sometimes boys are men
when it comes down to it
Then fear makes them brave
awakening their minds, with an emergency
grasp of maturity

Rich people's sons buy themselves free
and betrothed also manage
to get money, so that
only the poor remain
and some rabble, happy with a salary
sometimes hoping for *****, riches

and women of course, women
have to acquiesce
in worry, fear and sorrow
suffering the pain of men
their frustration, their lust
their dreams

Whatever reasons

we suggest, we will do it --


mainly for ourselves.

The pebble: I shrank,

it grew into a mountain --


with me on top now!

Please, don't ring the bell,

this is not my visit, but --


the reconnaissance.

All stories are true,

somewhere in the world, and here --


they may happen too.

It's the love of men:

obedient to witches --


longing for a friend.

Dad did it unnoticed
I was his princess
he fulfilled all my wishes
and I had no suspicion

We moved to France
I didn't have much to do
besides my lessons, enough
time for Eddie, a nice boy

I had the age
and suddenly it went fast
the engagement, the secret
of the rings, tailor, hairdresser

and then finally the wedding
Afterwards, I asked questions
Mama taught me that there is more
than the things that happen to us

more than what goes wrong
between people, we walked
away from the men
and counted our blessings

My vague reflection

in the fortune-telling ball:


a hazy childhood.

The train driver is startled, and I
am not myself, my thumb
presses upon the rails

It's one of the trillions
of temporary states
of my consciousness

in which everything is allowed
and possible, in the childhood
of the universe

No you or me
how real is that?
A green door

is just art, made
from a piece of tree, exhibited
in pop-up museum earth

Thinkers just follow

the path of their thoughts, curious --


where they will arrive.

In soil that I have not chosen
in no one's shadow
all myself

I watch and hear the neighbours
I can't get any closer

My branches reach
ever stronger, ever further
Children climb in them

They laugh and kiss
themselves a future

In soil that I have not chosen
in no one's shadow
I become rough and wrinkled

In heat, snow and storm
branches break and die

They reach ever
thinner and shorter
Nests blow away

to new trees
For new loves

Red light on red wood,

as a warm glow of danger --


sur réalisme.