You cannot sleep?
It will come
It's the clock genes

Just come over here
and lie down with me
Close to each other
You are so sweet

It tied knots in me
that are not quite undone yet
I was a saviour, an angel

not yet used
to her body, a child
who does know heaven
but not yet earth

It recurred
Anger grew inside me
Powerless aversion

It recurred
And with others
I lost my wings
A worthless angel

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.

I am that woman
who takes a few steps and then
stands still in the wind
on her face, my skin

feels the world
new, the cherry trees
this walk to the store
on the corner around the corner

cars parked next to the sidewalk
are so much more than the view
of the windows all around, the gardens
chimneys and clouds, the wind

on my face, my heart
touched, pounding
in my throat, three times
I take a deep breath, only then

do I walk along the traffic
away from the cherry trees
to the store on the corner
around the corner

You have two arms, so

bow them nicely around me --


then it is for you.

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

The sun is setting,

from the water there's darkness --


rising everywhere.

Our souls are not whole,

they are split, in other words --


they're schizophrenic.

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

In bed I listen

to the piano playing --


somewhere down the road.

From the storm, the flood,

washed ashore in the silence --


of the newborn day.

A trail in the snow:

the fresh footprints of a fox --


along red spatters.

Dozing, I vibrate

along with the world outside --


A leaf in the wind.

The cow looks beyond,

maybe at the evening light --


mirrored in her eye.

I see her peeping --

she looks back to me and then


we are both ashamed.

She is a goddess,

wearing a long train of boys --


like a Golden Goose.

In Jerusalem

the sky merges with the trees –


in keppel kippahs.

Why are you afraid?

Does it give you the reward --


of fewer hard hits?

The vase with flowers,

which I just put outside, look:


full of butterflies.

Every day I pass

the forest, it's hard to see --


that we're transforming.

I have a store full
of old things, it is difficult
to ensure

that they are not sold
to snobs with no idea
of their real value

without the slightest idea
that it cannot be expressed
in their money

only in tax money, annually
to be collected for maintenance
and everything that comes with it

to have the works viewed
by those who are interested
and that can be anyone

which is hard to accept
for barbarians who get rich
from constant replacement

The buzz of the guests

on the patio lets me --


snoop around freely.

Hand over my mouth, I laugh
at the evil child
you are, who wants everything
as it should be

a better world
justice, equality
and brotherhood, now!

No longer an ideal
that makes fellow human beings suffer
in order not to lack anything themselves

So immature, not you
your complaint, your desire
for more

more solidarity
more harmony
more self-criticism

I know, the seed
of your gluttony
which wants all that
is your sweet anger

I had the most marbles
kept them in a bucket in the attic
Whoppers in all metallic colours
and rare marble ones
Nobody liked to lose from me
so I just played alone

A classmate had an ivory marble
but ivory is forbidden, and I obey
the rules, that's the best game

People have no idea
how it works and what they waste
They say that I'm parsimonious
even with the foreign cents
which I cannot spend, the truth
is I work hard

and lead a sober life, the good example
that would benefit them more
than the inflation of a luxury life

The birch watches me

with a purely divine look --


of generous eyes.

It is printed now,

as pure art: the sorrow, mine --


everyone's, isn't it?

So tasty, the smell

of steaming bread, freshly baked --


while I was sleeping.

A woman with a gun
Driven out. Cast out
by her neighbours

because she was killed internally
and could feel nothing
but pain and disgust

and because they too can
no longer believe who she was
at home, in the paradise

before the arrival of the men
who use you cruelly
until they discard you

and impale the broomstick
grandma's cane, their bayonet
or a bullet in you

The woman with the gun
wants to sleep again, to feel
the warmth of the sun again

She wants to defend
a new paradise, being awake
from the nightmare

of inhumanity
and free herself from the cage
of her broken body

It stopped working,

it's fake love, not a real hug:


no more alcohol!

The landscape awakes

in hesitant morning light --


still breathing silence.

The girl keeps wriggling,

at her wrists and her ankles --


tossed into the sea.

Mist, with some shadows

of animals in the side --


of the road, hit, dead.

Tender is the night

in which you ardently love --


what will elude you.

I never played Hamlet,

I was just the performer --


who was playing him.

I like to be soft,

but hard enough to resist --


the worldly hardness.

A romantic kiss;

her first, so her eyes tell me --


dying passively.

Casting fishing lines

is a slow dance; I'm catching --


peaceful quietness.

My hand wants to know
what I, what they
want, do, and to
understand what is happening

to my body, and what
it has to do with me

My soul also wants to
know in order to know
and to laugh about it
when I think I know something

Laugh relievingly
Think about why

others do what they do
and then, what hold
my hand has
to help

I think ahead
behind my clouds
the sun shines
the sun smiles

Right after the first

news our ideas start running --


away from ourselves.

A kiss, naked I

stand before you, I'm not me --


I am your lover.

Fairy-beautiful

is the house under the snow --


No imperfections.

Her curly hair sings!

And it enchants me, it is --


electrostatic.

My monkey mind jumps

between superfluities –


unable to sit still.

In the hospital

lounge he takes a seat and falls --


asleep exhausted.

When the work is done

we sleep, nowhere, timelessly --


lying in our love.

Your cloths are already dry
but I just let them flap
so at least something is happening
in this deserted place

You just sit there watching
taking a dip every now and then
Afterwards you carefully dab
the short hairs on your skull

I liked you better in the bar
although you were bragging
about your house and the beach
all to yourself

You showed your brown chest
I wanted to lie on it
and work on my tan a little
so nice by the sea

No, you are not social
the day is still long
and there is nothing here
to cook a good meal

Your leg on my thigh

provokes me, then you ask me:


This is fun, isn't it?

Chance brought you here
and me, we don't look

too much, unconscious
of the questions in the eyes

the other one sees
We're on the way, talking

or silent, calmly
letting the energy flow

through the gates of desire
to the organs of our happiness

and we forget ourselves,
bathing in peace:

heaven supports the earth
she breathes her seasons

around and around in parties
of life and we are

I apply pressure

to the people close to me --


with expectations.

At last there's a flag,

flapping next to a café --


like a crackling fire.