The house creaks, little

brother leans over me, says:


I'll never collapse!

The poets return

through the former slave gate, with --


liberated words.

Oh, these good old days...

how elusively little --


is left of them now.

Father is buried,

there is more light now, the sky --


is so much wider.

Above my sadness,

swallows are swiftly winging –


in the laughing winds.

There is no good ending
The sun goes down
without colouring heaven

No birds, no music
I don't even cry
just say: so, goodbye then

It sounds so easy
but I look away and wait
until it's over

When did you slip away from me?
When did we stop talking
about what we don't understand

and gradually didn't know
about each other anymore
not each other's anymore?

Just ask anyone

for a story and you'll get --


their complete life course.

I am weightless, rocked,

embedded in the warm moon --


of your body curve.

Dad makes clouds, makes them

hover, I am protected --


against the sun's rays.

The sun sets faster,

so the days become shorter --


More time for the moon.

I was well prepared,

but when you came, it melted --


in my happiness.

Naivety with

large lots of lead in a barn –


that makes a goldmine!

The more you want me,

the more you'll see me, even --


when I am not there.

Miss Pinch holds the word

Women like a mouse away --


from her, by its tail.

He is trying so hard

that he doesn't realise he --


makes no impression.

Each sway turns over

another sway, all night long --


we keep on dancing.

Back 'home' after years.

What will I come across there?


Can it still exist?

Making people laugh

is risky, because they will --


force you to do it.

The underworld is

close at hand: ****, poo and junk --


slimy and rotting.

He sings about me,

about my desperation --


Everyone hears it.

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

Live an eternal

present, or learn your lessons --


time and time again.

Storm in the city,

dashing on the brick pavement:


police on horseback.

My wish is that they...

want the same thing as I do:


the best. United.

A group deforms you:

you must conform, be alike --


or will be kept out.

Moon behind branches –

Don't think about it, but look:


moon behind branches.

The hour has struck
Immediately we forget the time
and wish each other all the best
and boredom

that blessed can do everything
with the peaceful ticking
of grandma's clock without the hands
of an agenda that calls Action!

New Year, the realization
that time in ourselves never passes
In one body we are years
of experiences that are not closed

but do themselves well
on new discoveries and occasionally
set us thinking
about how it all comes together

We sit in silence,

the silence of our state-room --


echoing silence.

It's only a game,

therefore there are no losers --


only new chances.

It's a tradition, an old superstition
the night is hot
we'll go and do it
as soon as everyone is asleep
we sneak out of the house

leaving our husbands
as to take a ***

It is not far to the rock
with the flat stripe of white
In the light of the moon
we *** indeed
with laughter

while ******* for the picture
because we want to have proof

We slide our **** warm
over the pale stripe in the middle
of the Chilchliflue. Landed
in the grass, we feel
with each other

for the beginning
of a baby in our belly

We talk searchingly,

confidentially, as if --


we are weaving dreams.

It's raining tonight

on our summer memories --


They are washed away.

Only experiences count
now that every day matters:
new activities
beauty to the full

and attention to me
The rest, I clear out
What I have saved for years
I throw away neatly

in wrapping paper
or I fold flowers from it
witch will get dusted
in memory

of my company
our meetings
which cannot wait
We give each other

this day, everything
that can be intimate between
people in the passing
of an ordinary day

I do the fun things
that everyone says
he'd like to do, with you
and you and you and you

Between some remains

and undigested houses:


underground parking.

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

Love does prove itself

in attentively hearing --


of what is not said.

Being objective

is easy, less scary as --


being subjective.

In the city there are many doors
that are open at night
to being awake
experiencing something together
across the threshold
no longer being an outsider

In the city there are many sidewalks
where people stand
and explore distant areas
with flexible words
questions and mental leaps
to become familiar with them

In the city there are many gardens
where children play, birds
whistle and all year round, flowers
attract bees and people
to come and feast
on the nectar of the day

Quiet as a child

in his mother's arms, quite so --


even is my soul.

Can people still have a discussion with me?
I can confront you
with my falter
That searching, the slow
which I can hardly bear myself?
And what do you think of me?

I'm getting smaller, too small
for everything and everyone
I know, more and more
is falling off my world
Dependent on friends
who need me

So nothing seems to have changed
but it's not like that
not the way it was
not what I was worth
I know too well what it is
to endure the day depressed

It may take a long time
that I'm not there for a while
Lost in unreachable thoughts
until I sound again like
I'm doing better
than I'm telling you

A good intention

just comes down to self-knowledge --


and being content.

In a tangle are

the snowflakes dancing about:


winter mosquitoes.

The way he behaves,

imitating me, never --


I would act like that!

Life is beautiful,

despite misunderstandings –


and troubles with ***.

Oh, my dear darling,

no theory is correct --


when I comes to you.

We like each other,

your big nose, my port-wine stain --


are not to be spurned.

Nobody is as

good as the landlord, always --


he's pouring out love.

God is a nuisance:

He is constantly present –


but always sleeping.

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

Along the Lost Cost Quay
the cargo ships are almost drowning
while we party

in Oslo and Ghent, you dance
sparks from the floor, you dance
the delicate velvet petals

up, let them float
and return to the flower
Your shirt falls open

just enough to wish
for more, for no reason
just to experience

the lovely wonder of feeling
what I feel, myself, as if
your beauty is ******* me