Your kisses drizzle under my skin
they buzz in all directions
My arms and legs are panting

Your breath, I feel it whispers
that I am enchanted forever
My desire sighs for more

Your hands splashpatter
they rustle me completely wetterwet
My sweat gushes in your mouth

Your muscles dance and drone
they sulphurize thunder in my nose
My ears sough and sizzle

Your pelvis rages in me
pommels of fireworks explode
hunted by my heart

*** since the helminths,

derailed into a big deal --


for human beings.

The old man watches

the bathing girl in the lake --


and the sun goes down.

'Love you too', you say.

It sounds like an echo, like --


something from the past.

Covered by the night

I visit you secretly --


That is the rumour.

Shadows slide along

the tree line in the evening:


the wood gatherers.

Strangers are safer,

to them I can openly --


tell all my worries.

Making up stories

together, that is the core --


of relationships.

It is code language,

cipher: Zjellwe zjoh zjouvezj?


Shall we go to bed?

The majority

will want to live frugally --


when it is too late.

Perfect images,

captured, just for a moment --


Already passed by.

I'm searching the book

you gave: you are everywhere --


you're so deceptive!

Mum wants me happy,

it's her misfortune I'm not –


cooperative.

On the photo you don't see
that the water stands still
and you can think

that the sea has almost taken
the land and the house
will soon drift away

A person just has to take
other points of view
to find out something

and to keep living in the world
not in appearances, not in set
pieces of one's own fantasy

empty, unless actors populate them
of whom you no longer know after a while
whether they are acquaintances of you

but your own images nestle
in your head, they fit exactly
whereas the world is uncomfortable

If you don't forgive

you'll drink poison, hoping that --


the other suffers.

Early morning mist,

hanging about in the buzz --


of the rising sun.

Depicting the Now:

vibrations of the breakers --


the wave of Being.

Back 'home' after years.

What will I come across there?


Can it still exist?

The pain, the pleasure,

the ****** of giving birth:


fertility queen.

Beware, he kisses

beside my cheek nowadays --


as if I am air.

The perfect woman

is from marble, and barefoot –


she stays where she is.

There is a drum roll

behind the quiet houses –


everyone is there.

Thank you, cat, here is

your blackbird offering back --


Gods are generous.

Women ****** men,

that's a fact, it is the way –


they are, made of girls.

There is a sound of *** in my name -
at school, I often had a blush
I was ashamed of the giggles

At parties I stood in the quiet places
and in the parade I walked
on long wooden legs

The wind blew, tugged and
tore my trouser legs
There were shouts and calls

for more, "Hellooo helloohoo
where are you, what are you
thinking about", my friend asked

"Everyone sees only the veils
under which you hide, are you aware
that none of us knows you?

Just be a little like crazy, for once, dare
to go for it, to die of shame
or to bed with someone

Dare to be a descendant
of the man who chose:
Freeblood is my name"

Our club is losing,

hear the little flags rustle --


like a cold shower.

The leaves are fragile,

at the slightest they come off --


caution! breathe softly!

The cat does not move,

she is observing the moon –


the hypnotic ball.

It's only a game,

therefore there are no losers --


only new chances.

Something sings beneath

reality, there's the beat --


of a heart, loudly.

The song, that girl, touches me
time and time again, although I don't want to
think often of her

That girl without hair comb
without dress, just only a number
on her hand

and Antonis who carries someone else's burden

For whom do I carry the burden
of their lives, why
is their life also mine?

It just has to be for you
neighbour, for you, refugee
for girls and for peace

Not dinner time yet, on bed
I am drawing you, your back
the book and the red candle
the almost empty mirror image

We've seen enough
of the city today and no longer
immediately jump on each other
even though we're on vacation

I love you equally profound -
looking, drawing and feeling
how absently totally present
you are, your bare shoulder

which I caress with my eyes
your full attention
for the story and for me
as soon as you put the book down

It's something from years
elusively there
even if we don't pay attention to it
or if it's absent for a while

But why is there war?

Those who return, are injured --


No luck awaits them.

He eats well, just look,

my phalanx fits easily --


in his navel hole.

Are there any saints?

Possibly, they always hide –


like the unicorns.

My wish is that they...

want the same thing as I do:


the best. United.

Causes and effects,

implicated in something --


like the One and All.

If only love was

contagious, only too bad --


only bacilli.

Mama told me things,

as a toddler, that I'd like --


to know from her now.

A poet fiercely

yearns for a louder silence --


than the other speaks.

A group deforms you:

you must conform, be alike --


or will be kept out.

Karma: taking care

of yourself and your neighbours --


now and now and now.

I wandered through the village
in the woods of densely formed trunks
and I was told that it is not a forest

but a tree, I drank sweet tea
under the ******* aerial roots
and the thick foliage above it

The woman I spoke to, laughed
at my wonder and took my hand
She led me to the middle

where our surrender embraced the trunk
which was too thick for four outstretched arms
The red ribbons touched our head

Back on the terrace on the edge
where the young trunks in the lake
form a living canopy

we saw a flight of parrots
The birds were shouting at us
'No Hurry', they yelled every time

when they passed in the bright colours
of their message: 'No Hurry!
Be Wappy!'

From now on, dare to

be tough, firm and resistant --


more than a man's wish.

With wide eye shadows,

looking back at all the men:


my perky *******.

High above the horses' corral, the sun
Cutting in the deserted streets
Shutters closed
No fighters and no smugglers
no silver diggers, no luck

Only angry eyes that have seen her
Men go around with clubs
they comb out all the houses
That angel has to leave

I pull her inside, next to my pounding heart
she kisses me until it is over, the dog is alert
and licks her hand, mama is working
dad drinks all day

We wait for the night
I will go with her
away from here, this is not my home
it is a grave, a hollow stone
on which my name never will be written

Without any tears,

her eyes are crying sorrow --


and love into me.

He is trying so hard

that he doesn't realise he --


makes no impression.

Creation: spirits

blowing bodies out of flesh --


and bottling themselves.

Forgive me, I won't

demand so much anymore --


and then receive more.