There are tents with tubs
and tents with mattresses
for the girls and women

in the middle of the camp
behind the front
where they are buried alive

Buried who they were
Wishing to die
from the pain, out of the hell

of unknown soldiers
who are honoured, for
what they do does not happen

Because it's not allowed, so
they will get the flowers
which are not at the camp

that tomb
of the human dignity
of the snatched women

Together we can

untangle our confessions --


before the mirror.

From the isle we sail

across the lake, a man sings --


and the sun is low.

Let us just enjoy

this late evening together --


After us the spring!

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

The car is broken:

garage sentence. After that --


it is free to ride.

Uncle touches me,

my *******, well, I will let him --


he's so pathetic.

An automatic

wristwatch gets little pushes --


from its wearer-slave.

Something small you see

becomes large: a tiny ***** --


is missing somewhere.

Objects from the past,

just a few remaining friends --


nocturnal ground frost.

The yellow glow scares me
Already this afternoon, when things got blurry
yet I seemed to be awake for a second
from the pain in my belly

It shouldn't be, I don't want it
My belly must be safe
for the baby, hopefully
it will soon be over

here, in my own bed
oh, what is happening?
I gotta get out, close the curtain
against that dreadful moon

All is well, the doctor said
but I couldn't get up
and not thank him
I just lay there

Guy smiled and the doctor shove
something into me, not as nice and sweet
as I am used to with Guy
not even in my wildest dreams

Shed.. my tears of grief,

rested.. with my misfortune --


Forgotten.. myself.

The sea is whitened,

the sand's blown up in the air –


secure from the flood.

Mary was pregnant
with God, a story
can't be stronger
and I think of myself

as the saint or the prophet
I would like to be, so fulfilled
of pure inspiration, I am
in this silent, holy night
of the birth star

Let angels descend
to praise God
and sing peace
I am awake
under the palm tree

which bends its branches
and gives everything: fruit
and a source welling up
between its roots

I entered the display case
of people educators
subsidizing snobs
the multirich and companies

among tourists and inhabitants
who want to be seen
in the museum café and
with sophisticated pastry lard
the conversation with careless clauses

they quote from an authority
whom nobody has to understand
to get the intention
of the praised artists

The shop was crowded
Spotlights on show-pieces
fancy coffee table books
and chic presents
for the season and the next holidays

Especially the past
is on sale, postcards
of the attractions
and sights of the city

interchangeable
like the collections
which graduated stylists
cast in international moulds
to magnets for visitors

Like wild geese, fishermen
and monks landed here, others

sailed on and discovered America
but they came back

by the north, Thule
where it rains glowing stones

where the land burns and the rocks
swim between boiling fountains

There are the gates of hell
and the paths to heaven

invisible above the clouds
around huge curtains of ice

They came back to tell
about these wonders, too biblical

to want to keep it secret
from their family and friends

And the new world
they forgot

The sand, lying down

and blasting up, this is how --


the beach is breathing.

Being silent was best
Ham is strong and he threatened me
with a fatal accident
Then there was a child

Oh, my dear husband
the tireless
naturalist of the fermented juice
of sweet grapes

His old age has been tarnished
by that made-up anecdote
which hid the rapes
under a moment of shamelessness

But the punishment betrays it
anyway, the eternal curse
from the first scream
of the baby, innocent

Canaan, my youngest son
His generations to generation
subjugated and squeezed to death
in the purple lowlands

The snow stops traffic,

all I can do is stand still --


with my own shadow.

The cows are mooing,

sheep are bleating, and the wind --


disperses the seeds.

My abraded knee

is bleeding, I keep looking --


So beautiful red!

In evening twilight

everything shrinks, the street noise  --


the houses, myself.

Great, swimming at night,

alone in the silent lake --


black trees around me.

Only in Paris

waltzes a fly like flies are --


twirling in Paris.

Your house can be my house
our house, a nice house
I love you

if you don't want to be more
than I am and want to be more
than you are, not a boy

but a man who dares
to see me as Í see me
then you'll see more

of reality than you think
you see with your self-conceit
Look carefully, look better, I am

not a lesser man, I am
more than your expectations
How far do you dare?

I tell everything.

You look at me guiltily --


I understand you.

Finally the sun,

in the park a dove flies up --


freed from my pale skin.

We danced to a new year
in the utopia of the music
and the Golden Oldie
songs of love, longing
and sorrow that live
in our lungs

and emerge unpredictably
all of a sudden from the depths
of our breath
caressing or storming full
of experiences that make us
feel who we are

and what it's all about, seize
the eternity of our lives
in the stream of our breath
which is also the breath of others
while we are completely
engrossed in our presence

If you don't take risks,

you put everything at stake:


you risk all your life.

I don't imitate,

I learn, and hope to become --


who I will be then.

In the land you dreamed

for us, I still wait for you --


dead and buried there.

The waves rolling round,

in wild curls, steady and flat --


is the horizon.

Quietly she looks

at me -- a comb through my mind,


waving in her wind.

Hand in hand we sit

together in the garden --


of our affection.

All the elements that we arrange
in the Periodic Table, the very first
bacteria and also we humans
are creators of the universe

In time and space we transform
the energy and co-write
the imperishable facts
on the edges of black holes

That information already existed
as Creator
giving it space and time
with a big bang

It's inconceivably
and inseparably both
energy and information
are aspects of each other

My mind doesn't get that
Even if in deep meditation
my consciousness unites
with all that exists, I am ignorant

In posh clothes she walks

in the street with a coffee --


An efficient life.

You have two arms, so

bow them nicely around me --


then it is for you.

It will not have been a long time
that my parents sent someone with me
when I went to see the trains
after school and at the weekend

Far too often, they thought, but
I liked to be there, on the bridge
at the station, especially in this town
you could see old models pass

I know them blind, by their sound
the vibration of the viaduct
their smell if it doesn't blow too much
and the Doppler effect

It is mainly freight transport
yet the town is connected
to the big world
and still there are children

on their toes
to look over the wall
and I never saw a daredevil
scrambling on top of it

I am bored, but the view
of the city at night
is beautiful, still

too hot to sleep or count
the skyscrapers, the stacks
of illuminated windows

My hand waves goodnight
Would anyone be looking at me?
I squint my eyes

to peeping telescopes
then I cast them down again
to read a little, insights

I already had, but can not rhyme
right now, with the world
that keeps me awake

If only I could sleep, dream
of light towers in the desert
without being there myself

A person who boasts

of a quality, wishes --


to receive it, right?

A circle of pink

petals spreads around the bush --


fully packed with buds.

Appearances are an art, a few strokes
form out of paint, an intimate experience
of velvet, skin and sadness

There is no better job
than feeling proximity and depth
shamelessly direct, like in bed

Appearances are deceptive, my insolvency
is just a façade, like a name
given to you in ignorance

I no longer have debts
nor money, I earn nothing
and can work without worries

So let the pious people talk
I take care of Hendrickie
and Titus, everything is theirs

Come in, I kiss your eyes
I'll show you everything
Take your time, come as often as you like
and you will leave satisfied

Take a bath
in all my colours – soft
like powder brushes they caress
your look

I embrace your attention
with the gold of history
Here everything is
forever young

Unconditionally, I fold myself
to your needs
I give
images you'll never forget

Be surprised, enchanted, thrilled
Come inside and flow
through me
I'm there for you

A boss claims to be

caring, but he is a child --


that always wants more.

His farewell wishes

were: take good care of yourself --


and one another.

I see her peeping --

she looks back to me and then


we are both ashamed.

In Jerusalem

the sky merges with the trees –


in keppel kippahs.

Dozing, I vibrate

along with the world outside --


A leaf in the wind.

Why are you afraid?

Does it give you the reward --


of fewer hard hits?

She is a goddess,

wearing a long train of boys --


like a Golden Goose.