Well, you better hide

your thoughts, others don't have them --


It makes them jealous.

I see no flat earth,

when I look down from the plane --


yet the trees are flat.

The cold lies thick
over the world like dust
as if no one has been
there for a long time

and I have been
forgotten or overlooked
left behind as if I couldn't
be taken with them

No one with whom I can
share what I feel, the cold
since you've been gone, the cold
since I've been home alone

No one
to tell that
I have lost you
my dear darling

All alone
No one
who sees, who knows
that I miss you

The tears of her heart

sizzle in the tamped ashes –


of her loneliness.

With dry pods and bags

filled with granules we're rising --


little whirls of wind.

If it's peace between

I am me and you are you --


we may call it love.

You softly knead love

into my skin, you mould me –


godly beautiful.

Don't infect yourself

with this rotten parasite --


your own memory.

In the scrap workshop

I build monster vehicles --


Modern Frankensteins.

Our love fills the room
The basso continuo of your voice
conforms and mixes
with the song of the string
that you strike within me
resounding into heaven
- heaven, heaven

I bend my branches
with you, I ripple thoughts
of you all over you
I drink the rest from your cup
pressing my lips where yours
still kiss me, in heaven
- heaven, heaven

Outside the storm dances
something free, it runs away
around the corner, into the night
which we make wait
while we stay here
in the light of heaven
- heaven, heaven

Get to know yourself:

listen to what's being said --


listen and translate.

An exploded world
inside out
unfaltering

the water swallowed up
and the crust an asphalt sea
a dead sea, wasteland

where no cattle can graze
and everyone starves
is a horror dream

of one and a half hours
in the cinema hall
Outside we rely

on nuclear bombs and smart solutions
for a humane environment
because there is no growth

in placenta earth

Counting down how much

longer it will last: the clock --


of being in love.

Maybe I shall die,

but after that I'll come back --


it's so great with you!

I lick everything

and I still can't make a choice --


what I feel like now.

The further I am

travelling, the less I know --


actually know.

He's very jealous

of his wife's dearest loved one --


whom he has to play.

Watch out, love wants all

your attention and to go --


to bed in good time.

She is arranging

the flowers, he likes it, then --


she throws them away.

Spiritual life

is empty, you'll find nothing --


Everything is there!

Am I elitist

if football is new to you --


and I explain it?

The ice cracks and squeaks,

because it does hurt to melt --


and take on colour.

Happiness drugs you

until it vanishes like --


expensive perfume.

When it's the first time,

skating, dating, comforting --


Too bad! You are stiff!

Stamps on the pages

of the letter to my dad:


Not To Be Censored.

For a year I did

what I love to do, not all –


I wanted to do.

The wind blows away

all that love has been, it is --


rustling in the trees.

It's very secret,

so I don't tell anyone --


not even myself.

Shall I open up

to this man, shall I venture --


on falling in love?

Daddy was in my bed
long ago, I keep that
in the oval Choclat tin can
with my straw yellow hair
      
from the first time
it was cut by daddy
Mum was in the kitchen
wearing her slippers
      
He waited impatiently
for the porridge and took the scissors
Then, his porridge was too hot
and mum's was too cold

So he moved on
to my plate, creak
my chair broke
Weird but true

my porridge was delicious, just right
just as it should, satisfied
daddy took a nap in my bed
It wasn't too hard and not too soft

just right, just as it should

Powerless people

are like powerful people:


mad at the others.

Shreds of promises,

once for sale: advertising


canvas in the weeds.

Downstream, three buckets

of mayonnaise are sailing --


along with our boat.

I just stopped writing

that diary of mine since --


it is never true.

He still remembers

so many things from his past --


they'll never wear off.

Kabul: enthralling

my eye to the moons shining --


on its countless roofs.

The rapini and the nuts
I buy from the gnomes
the rest is delivered
under the green rooflet

Not that I need much
lead and gold are just wishes
maybe a happiness
in other people's eyes

I rather live warmly
in satisfaction
a clean nest
of myself

proven solid
that aged it is
outside is chaos
and the evening chills

I'm rowing away

from my love, pulling the oars –


that I have not yet.

She is eager, wants

to have me, yet not give up --


anything for me.

In the evening we

rest and cautiously express --


our sincere feelings.

Patro, patrino.

Mother: the little father --


in Esperanto.

Do I want to know

your suffering to get some --


idea what mine is?

From the beginning

they seek us, running, sniffing:


the poor human souls.

She doesn't say a word,

I have to guess what she likes --


and what she doesn't want.

Unrest. Lotte is ill
I grab my backpack
my compass and some clothes
put on my boots, a jacket
and I'm out of doors

On my way to Lotte
Being alone with myself
As long as I'm on the road
she will live
she will not die

She's not going to die, it mustn't be
She's not going to die, she's not going to die
No, no, not now, not yet
It's not the time yet
She mustn't, she won't

My steps stomp
The earth shakes
Where I go, a bison rumbles
Where I rest, a mountain rests
When I'm there, she'll be alive

Being in your arms,

I haven't any doubt, I feel --


that I belong there.

Again I practise

the music with my teacher --


Just by listening.

He is not a spy

and not a child, just silly --


with his secrecy.

Do you have to be

social to address anti-


social people? Well?

The red sun burns in

the windows of the city:


everything is lost.