People in wet coats

are avoiding the puddles --


but I just jump in!

Blessings rest upon

the great king, the eternal --


flame burns night and day.

The replicas are

very precious: they protect --


the original.

I'm living in meantimes

in a checkout queue or a lobby
at the hairdresser and the laundry
and when I take ***-bits and pastry

I'm living in meantime

when it's quiet in the train
when it's cloudy under the plane
and while I'm singing a refrain

when I'm at a stop in suburbia
take shelter and wait under a pergola
or pass over a few turns

when visitors are not coming
when it is silent after a greeting
and after excuses for early leaving

when friends whine about communication
repeat their stories with every consideration
for a lack of interest in a real conversation

In that meantime, the quotidian
breaks in between the action
I realize that I am alive

A garden, people,

a child climbs a tree and sees --


what a party is.

She admires him, proud

and happy she imagines --


that she has changed him.

Parting, he smiles in

my direction, already --


has forgotten me.

The kids are having fun
running a race around
the marsh, meanwhile trying
to catch the time in this day
of rest, as eternal heroes

In the trees, they build
houses that bear sweet smells

This earthly paradise
for young and old, of reflecting
on the weeks together
to set out with astonished eyes
will never perish

Spring unfolds my eyes

to the great beauty of what --


I already know.

Any thought to be

a model causes trouble --


It is so priggish.

I want the honour

of finding a rare flower --


deep under the snow.

Well, I may drown
freeze to death overnight
under a tree, just

grow numb or be lucky
and get a place
to sleep in the shelter

under the hundred beds blanket
with a head hole for each
comfortably warm together

But even then, this morning
my neighbour didn't wake up
at the first, second and third gong

Floundering he went up
when the blanket was hoisted
Under the beams he hung still

a skinny body - we watched
and for a half we each fenced
an incense stick

Raven on the *****,

we follow dad to the grave --


Then it's time to cry.

Resigned he stands firm,

while he keeps smiling bravely --


under his moustache.

I studied the sick

man next to me, his hooked thumb --


on the forefinger.

I had to choose the richest
Otherwise they would have started a war
because of me, where is their sense?

In vain I cry
tears about myself
that don't change a thing

Nowhere between the curtains
in the inner rooms
my beauty is safe

My soul searches not knowing
what is true for the love
of my husband in my lap

Not bothered
by an eastern prince who
enchantingly plays the flute

to take me with him on his horses
of the sea to a palace on waters
that are glinting with misery

bringing ships packed full of clouds
and throwing my blossoms
back on the pebble-sand

Flowers are for sale

everywhere, but none of them --


are pollinated.

I'm the deputy

today, the students meekly --


look me to my place.

People are watching

on their screens, just humbug, no --


disasters today.

To sustaining tones, the material
world draws a trail in smooth loops
from a bottle hanging askew
on its navel string and running

empty over the blue rug
of awareness
of all who are there
A pendulum thought

More and more light shines
through the bottle and the wind
in our senses
wipes out the patterns

we have repeated
into a magical eight
of insight into the infinite
course of our lives

The yellow-brown waves

of the muddy murky surf:


crowned with a white fizz.

Everyone would like

to preach and judge at some point:


own ethics come first!

Cauliflower, figs,

the dissecting room Kitchen:


I cut brains and hearts.

Peace, in a bed
in Amsterdam, kneeling
or with clenched fists

eternally awaited, preserved
in hearts and thoughts
about people who behave
differently than you wish
people who have to take care

of their well-being and can
only dream their visions
cannot realise these even
with combined efforts
The world is too big for that

Close by you can smell the wind
and go along with the seasons
Close by you can, within
the limits of your needs
safely open up to another

They are free, the birds

upon the gown of the state --


free to fly around.

His caress gently

lays me in a mellow bowl --


of purring pleasure.

Often we don't know

how to talk to each other --


so we just gossip.

What has to do with God
is complicated, the mind
wants logic and does
not give up easily

searching for every beginning
reasoning
from a perfect creation
to the known world

the people, their inclinations
self-indulgence, curiosity
impatience and stupidity -
their immaturity

which gave them the opportunity
to become reasonable
to become adults
and to experience life

as it is

With their breadcrumb hands

children taste the cake of sand --


with a little sea.

You devour men and

you feast on my lips, but you --


do not give yourself.

I'm giving myself

intimately to you, that's --


casual to you?

Children eat from the tree of life
At first, they don't know any others
then they don't dare right away

but eventually they taste
new fruits, carefully
When necessary, they are brave
and swallow it
with a wry face

This way, they learn to choose
between useful and detrimental
adapting their world a little
to their will and ability
using knowledge and inventions

Smarter than the smartest animal

I sigh with worries

and keep thinking about them:


Have I thought them up?

Many people scorn

it, the elixir of life --


It's a bitter herb.

On the sidelines in

this country unknown to me --


I can safely watch.

The fulfillment of a wish
is a brief happiness
a happy ending

if you then die
or make a start, on something new
a next phase or a next step

For a lasting Happy End, the hereafter
has been invented
and the comfort

you derive from descendants
with the added thought that later, some day
everything will be fine

That's how it goes
without a realistic view
of universal happiness

and without the rush of an illusion
you may learn
to go with the flow

that concludes nothing

There's another pile

of small gradual changes --


One more year has passed.

At the break of dawn

the wind drops, the rowers rise --


for a sea shanty.

If only it was

enough to quietly lie --


together in bed.

My words and poses
my taste and helpfulness, all of it
has been demonstrated to me, time after time

Together we are a copy of people
who together were also a copy
of people of people

unique collections
of ordinary habits
and general peculiarities

in a temporary body
that draws a boundary
between you and me

between all souls and senses:
for a multitude of experiences
that we can share with each other

to erase the boundaries again
being connected in our imagination
and to be more than ourselves

Skew mirror image,

from our dual unity --


We seem so twisted.

We hug each other.

It's a vain consolation --


We can't get closer.

I sobbed a moment,

then controlled myself again --


I can do that too.

We wear face masks
while she is working
and I see myself
transform, changing colour

into a super being
blue as a goddess
the decay of my body
well camouflaged
seemingly charmed away

What do I show
in this skin?
Myself, almost
touchable?
To strange eyes
I could not be more intimate

The synagogue was a horse stable
of the army, now the white is white
and gold again, a romantic house
of prayer in Catholic colours

Money and keys go in
separately from us
The control gates bleep, but
everyone is allowed to go through

though the men have to go aside
past the guest table
to take a kippah
The women are free

reverent by nature
even with wild red hair
and shining pins -
a symphony of life

on the edge of the holy
behind the black curtain

You always like to

see me, I don't even have --


to make me pretty.

Years later: again

on the heath, and in the pit --


I loved to lie in.

Old memories can't

handle any more input --


than one's own subjects.

Repairs all the time,

to stay myself, my meta-


morphical body.

There is no road here,

there isn't any other road --


than my own footsteps.