Always thresholds
/everywhere
To the world
/to be alive
Surviving people
/everywhere
Chance, above all
/everywhere

Angel of Farewell, get lost in love
/Pass me, pass me by
Angel of Betrayal, get lost in friendship
/Pass me, pass me by
Angel of Conceit, get lost in attention
/Pass me, pass me by
Angel of Pettiness, get lost in freedom
/Pass me, pass me by
Angel of Destructive Jealousy, get lost in generosity
/Pass me, pass me by
Angel of Impatience, get lost in order
/Pass me, pass me by
Angel of Brutality, get lost in harmony
/Pass me, pass me by

But you, won't you pass by?
/You, yes you
please seize the day with me
/come and
take and give and share
/and
eat and drink with me!

Angels of Fatigue, kiss the mighty
/Hear me, see me, help me
Angels of the Tempests, kiss the vicious
/Hear me, see me, help me
Angels of Reluctance, kiss the manipulators and tormentors
/Hear me, see me, help me
Angels of Neglect, kiss the hangers-on and profiteers
/Hear me, see me, help me
Angel of Mistakes, kiss the hypocrites and deputies
/Hear me, see me, help me
Angel of Myopia, kiss the liars and imposters
/Hear me, see me, help me
Angel of Indulgence, kiss the bitter and frustrated people
/Hear me, see me, help me

And you, won't you pass by?
/You, yes you
please seize the day with me
/come and
take and give and share
/and
eat and drink with me!

Your life may be long

or short, but make sure you live --


fully in the Force.

Nowhere can it be

safe anymore, look: adults --


too can cry a lot!

The prelate opens

the ancient reliquary:


holy is the dust.

Reality flows

out of the war camp, between --


dream and welfare work.

I can be a saint

in helping people, I should --


try that out to know.

Her lips, and then she

runs off, leaving me, my lips --


on the cold hard glass.

Nothing is beyond

my reach, since detached I don't --


reach for anything.

It is attention

that licks children into shape --


It's love. Or hatred.

No one really cares

about me, except God, sure --


that's what I was taught.

Mama woke me up
She embraced me sobbing and
stumbled down the stairs
in my arms, and I

stumbled down the stairs
in her arms, to daddy
in the kitchen, arms around each other
we were crying

but I had to go back, see
how I was
breathless on my bed
still warm

as if I was asleep, oh
you are thirteen
don't go, stay
here with me

Paramedics arrived
They put me in a bag
and carried me away
leaving me behind

Vividly coloured

straw flowers in the snowfield --


but they do not smell.

Unconditional

is my love and exhausted --


you will go away.

Mama is angry, she's letting me
I just should
be big enough
Her mummy time is over

since the divorce
No new beginning yet
I just should
be kind to her

indulge her and help her
until it's getting better
I just should
not mind the voices

that spit at me
with swear words
and cover my thoughts
I just should

listen to her and see
how I get rid of it
Is there anyone
who is not deaf to me?

I just should fix it myself
and if I can do that, mama
you can succeed as well
in being my mama again

Be careful, my love

is heavy, you will get tired --


and then you'll leave me.

No minor issue can be made
of the stinking discomfort
my body has become
because of the remix with pills
trying out
better versions of me

With a mouthful of Latin
the doctor lets everyone
speechless with bated breath
in the danger zone
of my sweat and gases
have a look

into the cold beak
between my legs
There I lie
thinking of the cloud
of friends around my bed
in which I relieve my soul

It thunders above

the clouds, you never can know --


where it will break through.

This is not a flying cold
this is doing the usual things
in a tilted world

crawling on sore knees
over the sharp rings in the metal
of a fallen spiral staircase

Keep going, keep going, take a rest
in a corner of the turn
till fear loves me again

till my ears go again
with what I see and feel
in the storm of my thoughts

till my intestines fall in place
in the witches' cauldron
and my emotions come home

from suffering
from the lesser evil
to everyone who loves me

At last there's a flag,

flapping next to a café --


like a crackling fire.

Since that day I

old striped out tiger
in a young body

stand in another light
that undresses me, inexorably

untying the laces of my certainties
unbuttoning my habits and dreams

kissing open my eyes
to the beauty

of the abyss
and with a soft hand

taking off my immortality
The abyss isn't an abyss

if I fly and you
accept my hand: look at me

I'm looking at you
standing in another light

since that day when I was so happy
to be still alive - I am

after deep sighs, ready
to jump

It's better to dream

of the future and not fall --


into its abyss.

'Do you know where you are going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you?'

the way it is, today
my own life today
softly singing on

my way to the next
crossing in the park
knowing where I'm going

left or right, always
back to friends
with whom I'm happy

Even if I don't participate
with the neighbours, all of Brussels
Berlin, Beyrouth, and Beijing

I still participate
but otherwise, living
close to myself

indoors "viewless"
today's life, softly
singing on my way

Even when I can't,

I want to participate --


Life doesn't wait, does it?

Everything changes,

people often slow it down --


with their traditions.

If It works, it can

be satisfying to glue --


something together.

All he could do was

hiss like a snake: Hizzizze-


rezshzmeezezzymuzsh.

Winter light eats the wide hill
ever barer, buzzards hover over

the headstones in the fertile soil
which for centuries bore olive trees

The souls are elsewhere, where Israel
takes them, the remains perish

in black cloths, to be the first people
to enter the new world on the day

the gate of mercy opens
That is what the dead have lived

and fought for, for that
they have won against the god of war

they have conquered the city, with the source
that breaks out of the earth

Jerusalem, where I suffer
from divided togetherness

Will children of my grandchildren
collect their bones, honour them and

grow olives here again
with sky-high twigs of peace?

We have ordered musicians
but can we pay them?
Give them some tea

.....Listen, the trees are falling
.....Lovely, the sound of axes
.....cutting down the orchard

.....The times are changing
.....Play! I want to celebrate!
.....You can leave after that

I don't know, I want to go
Why have we grown so old?
I remember everybody

was happy, without knowing
why, didn't we discuss it
time after time! It is over

We'll die anyway
while life goes on
as if we have never lived

The insights in my notebook
have become riddles, I remember
having had today's hazy thought

once before
but clearer, a revelation
that I immediately wrote down

and to catch it again
I've been walking for hours
sniffing for a trail

I walk along the niches-hut
of The Northern Lights through time
the sky turns orange again, the sea green

I keep flies out, I filter
the thoughts of the world
and stand still from time to time

to make sure
I am awake, ready -
my hand on pen and paper

In the evening the dunes are flat
and swampy, watery grey
bushes darken with dashes
of red and blue

Everything loses solidity
land looks like sea and sea seems to be land
in thin waves of twilight
water coagulates to shades of sand

Clouds resemble a massif
and moonless, mountains
seem to be a night-black sky
in which there are no stars

Ideas are lifelike
shapes do pass
Know what you attach to
then you are free

The waves rolling round,

in wild curls, steady and flat --


is the horizon.

At night, full trains standing still
between the erigeron
The grass **** wobbles a bit

The water sighs
little waves over the railway
Geese splash around

Bye Atlantis
Bye floating gardens
Thank you, all the best

We're flying out
the earth is open
Where to, where to?

Rombom, the sun will come
Zirconium sparkles, colours
expectation everywhere

It paints our desire
promises us love and happiness
- a fabulastic home

The river bulges

up to the edge, I'm afraid --


must see it myself.

The sky is blue and cold today
as if the atmosphere is thinner
and I can sense the void

under which the houses are small
and low, meaningless
fleeting and interchangeable

The old timber factory seems to be leaking
On the right side of the base
smoke rises from the building

as if a reversed draught
through the black chimney hole
absorbs, from distant stars, seas
of gigawatts of power for the city

The black hole swallows

starlings up and spews them out --


*******, pumping heart.

A trunk full of coins, countless
too many to use them in some way
We dispose of them properly

by putting them away for later
in a safe place, buried
under the ash in the middle of our town

We have enough, with the cattle
the pans and the women
who we capture across the border

The men, we trade
for jewelry and silver
that way we get rid of them

without having to ****
or to fear a rebellion
After all, life is hard enough already

It is an honour

for me to be there for you --


Until you sell me.

If only the little animal could
understand everything
no questions unanswered
when it dies

It does not live long enough
and flying is the time
of hundred wonderful times
of playing to die, the time

of asking again and again why
thus, this or that, and how
curiously cutting and pasting
knowledge, screaming

and throwing away angrily
lying down exhausted
and cry, but still
starting over once more

rearrange or discard
the half answers
and go looking
for new data

always ask another question
principally blind
full of confidence
that there will be an answer

Children ask questions,

and they learn a lot from that --


Just like adults do.

Believers give God
a portion of His abundance
not as a sacrifice, but as a person

who helps neighbours and fellow villagers
spares pack animals and allows butterflies
to flutter and who is not only sweet

to stuffed animals
but builds fountains
to water the noble horses

Unbelievers decide for themselves
whether they sell their yield
what they eat and what they share

God and greedy people too
choose themselves who benefits
what the henchmen get

for taking, and the front men
for hiding the abundance
in the heavenly clouds of Moneyland

Be responsible,

and legitimise nothing --


with a nice story.

The bell, an unexpected visit:
a gentleman who asks me

to come along, I have to
I am arrested

but only for further investigation
'Please don't make it any worse!'

At the office, I get a seat
'Please wait here, then it will

be fine, it takes time
You do understand, don't you?

Accuracy is required and you are
not the only one. I wish that was true!'



We get food, just enough
in our own stench, silently

arguing around
the growing puddle of *****

over the rotting mattresses
a soft bed of worms

from the breathtaking **** barrel
It seems we've been quietly forgotten

Sometimes someone whispers
if he dares and faces

the angry glances of fear
of caning, so as not to get crazy

Spring, time to go out!

Although winter is nicer:


not all those people!

With the inconveniences that
would embarrass me in company
I stay at home as much as possible

It has already happened
I just laugh about it
Being attractive isn't that great either
      
My friends keep admiring me
only my sister doesn't
call pretty what isn't pretty
      
She sees me
like I don't like
to see myself
      
There is nothing more
than this, but I
I want
      
so much
more
than this

After the garden

party: deflated balloons --


Colourful cherries.

Drinking tea in the rain
in the smell of rain
plain tea, plain rain
but, the two of us, full
of expectation: touch me
touch me, feel me

Lips, hands, all
of you, dear darling
touch me, touch me
nicer much nicer
than dreaming
dreaming the past

If you like you can
silently shout a stick
into the sky, climb
and climb higher, higher
sliding looser, looser
down and up

higher higher up
colours around the sun
diving deep into them
wallowing and wrapping yourself
and sparking sparks
from my hands

But stay with me
want me, want to
see and feel me
keep me whole
see me, feel me
touch me, touch me

Talking and joking,

with you, here, at my home, but --


it's not a visit!

World citizens run around
Busy parasites in the thin crust
of earth

kept at work by her
and digested in her. She sweats decay
from her pores, a delicious smell

healthy to live in, but intoxicating:
some think they are astronauts
on spaceship Earth

They race nearly 800,000 kilometres
per hour along with the sun, spinning
a pirouette at 1,670 kilometres

per hour. Say them goodbye
adieu, whatever that means
wish them a pleasant journey

to heaven
and upon arrival the realization
that they already were there

Life gives me a lot,

and I still have no idea --


who is the giver.

My perspective between the rusty leaves
is a dream house on the edge of the forest
picked up on the way, in the fall

Rich colours in the sun caress
the wooden skin flakes
of Mother Earth

and I am passing by
just a moment
a guest