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.

Open and closed doors
windows shutters castles wards shops towns roads
borders. Follow your path
if you can, where possible

Open and closed gardens
skies valves taps sewers sluices vaults coffins
graves. Look and smell
where you are, where you're going

Open and closed monasteries
societies visors letters flowers looks lips eyes
ears. Listen and be blind
to what you don't need to see

Open and closed books
credits lines veins wounds chakras minds questions arms
hearts. Speak and keep silent
about what doesn't need to be said

Open and non-open
water fire kitchens pans curtain endings conversations
relationships. Be caring
for others and yourself

She painted her nails:

her toes look like little gnomes --


with scarlet red hats.

Remembering some-

one, the light of a star that --


is no longer there.

Would a personal

message without emoji --


be without feelings?

Timeless afternoon
Postponing chores
Putting paperwork away
Going to bed with you

My heart is in my belly
exactly where I explode
with you - firework sparks
and sweet languor in every cell

My body completely
touched by the magic
spell of hormonal love
still shiny

with attention and sweat
every spot awakened and treated
dozily omnipresent
in your closeness

My future is short,

so please let me find shelter --


find shelter in you.

After every step,

I have to take another --


Yeah, with all my wits.

A melancholic

march of the liberators --


playing on bagpipes.

You went away, I went on
loving you and out of the blue
there you are at my door
with a sleeping mat

I look at you
You drop anchor
and want to show

all kinds of things, explaining them
with your hands and I have no idea
how this suddenly happened

I'm just glad
I was home, am home
I make soup

There is rye bread
We are hungry
Old hunger

I'm by the sea late

at night, the winds need no sleep --


they're scanning my skin.

Getting some shut-eye

while leaning against mama --


And listening in.

The polished dance floor

is completely clear, with ease --


I can run across.

Today, on the heath, I walked
out of my habits

I looked back and saw anger and
powerlessness hiding behind them

A fear that I couldn't recognise
looked away, feelings

stirred within me
They pounded for help

Please, do not return
to your habits

Habits will straighten

the learning spiral until --


it no longer springs.

Getting old: I look

carefully at the flower --


Today I still can.

Just a small quarrel,

but according to the stars --


it would be fatal?

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)

Another same day,

I search familiar details --


for a difference.

Lovers in the bus,

I don't want to look, but I --


see it anyway.

He washed his shirt him-

self at the seaside, he says --


Or did his lover?

No storm, no silence
a deep swell
of myself being
lost in myself

My organs merge
Fast fishes wave
under the skin surface

A forgotten desire
flows out over my cheeks

Everywhere I can

find my own little corner --


for my private world.

I walk past the night

train, casting a shadow as --


long as a wagon.

A seagull crosses

from one spire to the other:


grey on grey on grey.

Look

My hands
They should do something
But I don't know what

Nobody needs me
Boring days, empty hands
Leaves in the wind

And sand
I'm watching the sand
Look

A photo
Lace curtains on the windows
And a shadow behind it

..Mama, you know
..It's you
..Look

..Our house, the garden
..The arbour where daddy had coffee
..and was writing

..Here you are reading
..On the swing, just like now
..in the rocking chair

..But you don't read anymore
..You watch
..TV, that's all

The words are shadows,

vague and fleeting in the cave --


of the aged head.

This stone from back then:

look, without my memory --


it is just a stone.

Creatively I

press five ideas between one --


cheerful, thick cover.

I wait for wind, the skippers wave at me
but I am just as ready for the sea
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
I'm lying in the harbour, lying on the quay
just bobbing in the harbour, this and every day
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
My plans are stored away, are stored away
provisions for tomorrow, for another day
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
I'm staring at the sails, I stare and keep staring
at easy ins and outs, the moving, moving
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
Those sails are tight and bulging, not a rip or tear
while nothing happened here, no, nothing happens here
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
I watch the skippers sailing out, they roam and roam
but I don't catch the wind, and stay at home, at home
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
There is no wind anymore
not a breath of wind anywhere

I still remember

the playground and the woodlane --


Boring afternoons.

Where will I be safe?

Where will someone say to me:


You will be safe here.

I strayed off
No weeds over here
Time rushes by
on a busy track

Full trains without me!
Replaced by someone else
so I hope for my colleagues

Don't worry
we'll be fine
you do look very good
you are free!

Wagons of words!
I am alone here!
On raked paths

Rays of evening sun

surround the straw doll, turn it --


into a field saint!

What I didn't want to

know, I do now know for sure --


simply by guessing.

Indescribable,

it's so beautiful here, al-


most beyond my grasp.

Every ten years I live
in a different world
with different wishes
The old ones have been
passed by new circumstances
The memories remained

Content with what is close
I occasionally cherish
what was, the friendship
we still feel, even though
some discomfort has crept
into our encounters

We live too far apart
and want to, don't want to
move towards each other
How well do we know each other
as we are now, do we know
those who we embrace intimately?

I missed you a lot,

I miss you, these years of life --


we have sadly missed.

Chasing boys away

is like chasing flies away:


they will come right back.

Lean, the hands rough skin
A hoarse greeting with holes
between my sand gnashing teeth:

a scary person
I am everywhere because nowhere
I'm allowed to be, give me shoes:
as long as I walk I live

Call me Job, I don't
believe God will save me
from the underworld
where it's warm in winter

till midnight
when the doors close. Whether I hope
to wake up from the cold
I don't know, maybe

I'll do what you do and push
it into the future
Then it doesn't exist

Wet and cold, I stand

in front of the shop, looking --


at hot sandwiches.

I do carpentry.

The workers are wondering --


how to proceed now.

It just happens, I

forget something important --


that I do know well.

Shall I continue
to wait
alone at the table?

My eyes jump
and wave Help Help Help
Ships sail past

I cry
louder and louder
with my shoulders
but I'm invisible
City and county are flooded

ships are sinking
packed
Help Help Help

Oh, shall I
shall I continue
to wait?

Night and day, traffic

rustles around the silence --


of the park, the eye.

There's some truth leaking

from the joke, hey, every joke --


has a hole somewhere.

I wish I could think

about it, because it's on --


my mind all the time.