My foe shows no light,

but I do sense some little --


dark within myself.

She never shuts up,

in my sleep she keeps talking:


Radio Married.

He is also there,

listlessly looking away --


we mumble hello.

Girls giggle and they

keep shifting the position --


of their bulging calves.

The way he behaves,

imitating me, never --


I would act like that!

He looks around, so

he isn't dangerous, he dares --


not do anything.

They're laughing at me,

it just happens, it really --


really can't be true.

Dilated pupils

in a swollen, white face, that's --


what sadness looks like.

Characteristic

of old people's buildings is --


their name: Home of Loss.

The shadows are long,

I'm waiting, it's getting dark --


it's coming closer.

A new appointment,

and today my first grey hair:


what many changes!

The lunar orbit,

the decline of my body:


it all goes slowly.

Something shiny there,

I stop and kick it away --


pff, just a dead star.

The fairy tales are

over, since then they just tell --


how it really is.

The feeling you are

being used is not as bad --


as being unused.

The storm sweeps away

everything, there is nothing --


just a shoreless sea.

There is a shot hole

in the photo on the hearts --


of fallen soldiers.

Conforming myself,

keeping my mouth shut: my fear --


won't protect me though.

Making people laugh

is risky, because they will --


force you to do it.

Will I then remain

a child, showing my parents --


my abilities?

The single greatest

economic power is --


bribeandcorruption.

The gold is shining

more and more, and so brightly --


that it catches fire.

The grand parade is

over, and never over:


unforgettable.

Stamps on the pages

of the letter to my dad:


Not To Be Censored.

At the bench, just before
we get there, he reaches
for the ground

and sits down
but he doesn't seem to know how
he doesn't seem to be well, I wait

A municipal man comes
to see and he calls for help, sirens
My companion is carefully laid down

A woman presses her arms
around me and holds me
caressing me

Others are watching
tirelessly his chest rises
after every push, another push

I'm still not allowed
to go to him, I'm waiting
it can't be right

that he stays down
that he is not on the bench
that he doesn't talk to me

Waiting is living

half, putting deeds off, looking --


in front of oneself.

The jinns: a cloud cuts

through the moon and through the eye --


that looks at the moon.

Better not to count

on society or God --


Provide for supplies.

Then, Adam and Eve

invented god and soon he --


was superior.

I never dare to

speak to them, not one of them --


does even see me.

Behind her: a man,

his head perched on her shoulder --


like a frightful hawk.

So strange, wealth offers

everything to be happy --


and yet it doesn't work.

Gee, where exactly

are the landmines that I placed --


the lies and the truths?

Owners own the land,

but the gardens will belong --


to the gardeners.

The tempest tears roofs

away from attic secrets --


devours people's pasts.

A tangled patchwork,

bits of all kinds of people --


that's how Mumbai was.

Might fidelity

be: pretending love, hoping --


it will get better?

My kisses ask you:

please love me, I do love you --


because I kiss you.

Politics revolves

around trying to control --


our powerlessness.

Cruel potentates

establish 'peace', simply by --


creating wastelands.

Finding the greater

problem and proclaiming it --


thát is politics!

It is all pastel,

the light, the music and I --


this very spring day.

Power is itself,

you can never possess it --


you only use it.

Politicians are at the top
of language, salesperson
and lawyer in one they
compress the voters' words
with lobbyists and preachers
along the line, it's all

about bluff and the art
of getting stuck every now and then
so that a competitor has to come
and help and inconspicuously
pushed on previous promises
crashes, chokes on them

or at least tears
himself inside
on their blade
You too, Brutus?
It is a full moon
The people are cheering

Today, an excursion to a temple
somewhere further along the river
and we don't take anything with us

although no one seems to be there
so there will be no daily rites
This must be a lesson

We walk single file
through the forest, we walk
over the edge

of a basin, we are there
in the middle of the temple
a row of orange flags

in the open cave
of the waterfalls
of time

which overwhelm me
and carry me away, for a week
I can't be found

Only the forest sees me
while my body meditates
and does not know that I exist

Every day we are

celebrating without frills --


just being grateful.

I like early mornings
then I'm on my way with a cart
and every day I find something
      
that has been put on the pavements
of the city, a teapot
tools, books, mikado
an outdated radio
a kitchen chair and stuff

In the winter I rummage about in the pub
in the summer along the canals
A failed, sometimes beloved man

Till my true one and I
will occupy an empty house
with a teapot, books, mikado
tools, an outdated radio
a kitchen chair and stuff

I met Sharon, walked

her along unknown canals --


with bikes everywhere.

If I behave, I can participate
half as a half-grown as if
it were fun in that world
on its head that thinks it can

cheer me up with a smile, kid
the best time of your life...
Cynics! Down with them! Down with fake!
I have square shoulders

just wait, I'm beating
the drum, I'm in
the hangout
about to

They have been hanging
for so long that their brains turn
everything around, having no idea
what's real, what's fake

Exploring the world,

you better not be afraid --


of getting lost there.