I want to see you,

that's it, you really don't have --


to be sociable.

My writing creates

order, but I also see --


more and more chaos.

Slow cloud formations

drift darkly within themselves --


humming a little.

Over the wide fields

of collected memories --


the past strides about.

The pond is chilly,

the wind high up in the pines --


brings autumn again.

Tangled in all the

things I think about, I lose --


more and more contacts.

Love is a tempest

that first throws us off course and --


then plays with our minds.

Can it comfort me,

that I am in love with him --


who holds me captive?

With a broad chest
a ******* tongue
beautiful feathers, a hot breath
and a forked tongue
they live on our skin

We little ***** rats in the eyes
of the screaming crowd
that rattles the fences
in the zoo, the cages
in which we are trapped

The gorillas who clear the way
the hyena who says she is helping
the peacock who dresses our hair
the dragon for our image and
the hissing of the tour manager

Don't step on their tails
and don't feed them, please
Just let their airs
explode, no more ground
beneath their feet

People expect peace

from her, which confuses her --


so she has no peace.

She always looks me

up to talk to me, because --


I know her, her life.

Take it or leave it,

she demands. He is in love --


and takes it.. for love.

The visitors help

her search, can anyone find --


her as she once was?

So, what is my life:

my existence, being there --


plus my history.

I work in the white palace
Input, output, no ripple
in my body, my mind
remains calm, whatever I do

In between I experience the silence
in the red palace rooms
that I can always enter
wherever I am

There I open my skull
into a cup and I experience
myself, let love flow
to what occupies me

There I also look at the lives
of my loved ones, of strangers
and of the people I meet
I embrace them with many arms

of tenderness

Freedom is being

able.. to choose for others,


to suffer yourself.

Hoping for a miracle
that I don't believe in
an extension, being able

to do what ordinary people do
on ordinary days, eat
and not be sad

Getting stronger, restoring
myself, no longer needing
the names of my diseases

Only my nose is healthy
puts me in my own stink
smells where it's going

Pigeons coo more plaintively
cawing jackdaws scratch in me
Missy turns around me

The city is full of life
rushing past the ruins
which still know who they were

Lying in my bed,

I saw a house being build --


for after my life.

He's gone, I linger

about in our shared past where --


he is still with me.

Cautiously I take

my very first steps, my eyes --


feeling out the light.

Do I see the tree

or do I just remember --


the image of it?

Such a big party,

it rings over and above --


the crowds and the roofs!

Like raindrops tapping

on a roof, the pedals tick --


against the music.

He's a beauty, like

a flower, I pick and stick --


him between my teeth.

Her dress jumps arches

in the dining hall, she whirls --


untouchably light.

The bat-faced yellow

queen of ****** pleasure:


her razor-sharp mouth.

Only when you're old

do you know: it doesn't matter --


if you're postponing.

Old sore praises it-

self for its best intentions --


Own glory comes first.

Rustling lanes, winding roads
the rippling on the bank
of the path along the river

wherever the land is not buried
under city, I walk my days
in the smell of rotting

Mushrooms, spider webs
birds in the undergrowth
and dearest to me are the wild
flowers, thistles, chicory
pink anemones and poppies

I admire the gaunt, the sallow
the beauty under
the beauty of
the scars, the life
they pass on

You flow in my blood,

alive in me are your spores --


Wild Wonder flower.

The deep-sea coral

is a castle full of crowns:


shoaling princess fish.

Far too many lives

are a roller coaster ride:


beaten black and blue.

'You come with me?' Woof

'You like something to eat?' Woof


'Come on my lap!' Woof

In the hotel safe

are the counterfeit diamonds --


of the fake countess.

I would like to feel

everything I feel and not --


be drowning in it.

Mama's day passes

uncomplicated, she just --


follows dad's schedule.

Go push your way through

the forest, to the fortress --


and set yourself free!

The parents try to

imitate their child: its hopes --


and its energy.

I'm not moving straight,

I am a piece of something --


bigger that rotates.

Adulthood is the

hard skin against feelings of --


gentle compassion.

I wrap myself up

in my poem, to show me --


show my open wounds.

Tower in the bed

of sand, the unlit beacon --


of a happy time.

We do this, do that,

as it suits us, everything --


takes more time that way.

I walk all day long,

thinking all the time, thinking --


of you, behind me.

Then it is autumn,

wind, wet twilight hours, the shops --


illuminated.

Two short taps wake me,

a dry sound. Is it knocking?


Is it an omen?

The children go play,

grandpa is drowsy, today --


No stories today.

Where do I end up?

Didn't I steer well or am I --


being pushed away?

Happiness just comes

and goes, again and again --


it's new, it is: now.

Clothes being blown up

from the grass by the river --


What could have happened?