Being in your arms,

I haven't any doubt, I feel --


that I belong there.

Do you have to be

social to address anti-


social people? Well?

What is new is old,

because it does remember --


what has been before.

Everything could be,

tonight, and it cannot be --


It's so sweltering!

I am sick, foggy

and incapable I am --


slurping sips of soup.

I could not stay, without an escort
we traveled under the seven heavens
and only later did I realize that
up there are the souls

of Adam – expelled just like us
John and Jesus – the messengers
Joseph – rejected by his family
and Enoch – the living teacher

Aaron – still loved
Moses – the patient
in the desert of unbelief
and Abraham – the first to surrender

With borrowed eyes I see
under the heavenly light the radiant
new Jerusalem, the city
that we are going to build here

Next to what was once

the farmyard, a kitchen chair --


in the tall wild grass.

This palace of mirrors looks quite
common because it refracts everything

into googol beings and objects and even
more tissues, and so on, and so on

No one can see the whole
Only with closed eyes

it is possible to think a whole
out of loose people and see

that they do not exist separately
but live and move in all

mirror pieces, we too -
only blindly I can see

if I dare, that I can
only care well for myself by

Everything changes

and suffers from it, I too --


am living that way.

A person must learn,

there are no suns anywhere --


that don't cast shadows.

Two teenage girls sit-

ting opposite each other --


form a closed circle.

The storm growls and howls

through splits in the hollow wall --


like a house *****.

Remembering some-

one, the light of a star that --


is no longer there.

Another new birth,

another programmed clotting --


of exploded cells.

My heart skips a beat,

once a flash and forever –


we kiss each other.

For their family,

dead people are the same size –


as in their lifetime.

On your birthday you

pretend that everyone is --


doing the right thing.

For a long minute

great gratitude trickles down --


Heavenly caress.

The geese: vigilant

next to their grass-green droppings --


Sated in the sun.

I crawled, I stood up,


grandpa only nodded: yes --



that's how one grows up.

People keep thinking,

about their feelings, even --


about their thinking.

The oldest sons count
as patriarchs from Adam
Seth and Enos to Methuselah

Cain is a different story
from a time when there were more people
more women to get married

It is the story of the sacrifice
that was rejected
as if God did not exist

so that Cain lost his faith
and mourned for that
and God was sorry

so He forbade to **** him
and other unbelievers
you shall not **** a human being

Moses chiseled in two stones
which he smashed immediately
to teach the people a lesson

with the seething ******
of 3000 men, the blood sticks
to the priests forever

but they had every right
because God wanted
to do it Himself

My clothes are heavy, pack animals
with bags full of worries, I have them
washed when I sleep, dried
in the light of the moon, breathe

Water ripples in the dark
of the gorge between the mountains
here and there fireflies
wanting to ***, they dance

in front of me to the bay
the water is still warm
like when I was a child
with mama in the bath

her soft body
the sweet, lukewarm air
that I still can smell
in the light of the moon

I spread my arms and legs
like a peacock
and draw a circle around me
only my body is still here

I'm a kind of half-

human, there are so many --


others I do need.

As serfs of ourselves

we all do long to live free --


for one another.

I fantasize how

people are, not accepting --


that they're so boring!

My heart drinks the smells

of the lilac tree, I'm drunk –


of li-lilac wine.

The world does exist,

finally I know for sure:


I am dying there.

I'm a servant, I give -- space
to inspiration and objections
I fill myself with wishes
and pour them out into decisions
until contentment flows over

I don't hear complainers complain
but encourage, so they never get
lost in expectations

The profits is just a balance
of round-off differences
expenditure becomes income
in the space -- of the living together
where everyone is in the middle

of nowhere special, nowhere people
everywhere, on their way to nowhere
because they are already there

I am still alive,

everything has changed now, all --


at once. Your world too?

Here are people living
in wet boxes
and I don't cry
I am not campaigning
for an allocation in the budget

I feel alone
just like the others
in their houses and clean clothes
who already have so much to do
and who walk by embarrassed

with a friendly greeting
that cuts off a conversation
before it can begin
and who forget this quickly
before it becomes a problem

Sometimes we give money
What else can you do
but ponder your sin-
ful needs and spend
what you have got after that

I'm ashamed, I eat

brownie crumbs, in the movie --


I've **** in my mouth.

I want to go there or see a movie
about it: the steppes

the jungle, the Himalayas
I want to shine my light
in trenches, I want to know

everything, made manageable
so that the whole world becomes mine
and I become a true citizen of the world, no
I want more, be a cosmo citizen

between spirits, angels and gods
exist forever, I want to experience

space adventures, but near
home, because I already am so tiny
a minor matter, a speck on mountain

or sea, interchangeable in the crowd
I don't want to relativise away
my efforts, not to be completely
invisible in universe and time

Whoever wakes up

here, will wake the butterflies --


sleeping on his cheek.

Souls are colourless,

black and white the setups that --


separate people.

It is a long wait,

I pull buttons off my shirt –


now I have to sew.

Come and visit us,

or do you prefer to wait --


until I am sick?

Sweetheart, the earth is getting cold
we have to do something
take ourselves by the hand
The guides walk away

in different directions
guided by the wishes
of their followers, that's how

it always goes, whatever you think of it
If only there were guardian angels
with power, not the writers

who meet in this café
no, a Guardian Council
for presidents and scholars

who want to unload graphite powder
on the north pole, throw atomic bombs
upon it, or build a dam

in the Bering Strait, with pumps
on peaceful nuclear energy
finishing the job

Yet... all of us, we
must do it ourselves, guard each other
with wings of compassion and reason

At night, the houses

with their windows are yawning --


at me everywhere.

Sleeper ****, sheep ****
on the flats, not much happens

Gray on gray the slow breath
of night and day, shreds

of heartbeatless noise and waves
of screaming seagulls, silver-

glare on the sea
the slime trail of a snail

Nowhere blood, just some feathers
shells of past life

and silent sighs from the universe
Without a **** I would disappear

to nowhere, oh how I ache
for you

He starts
cautiously
with small steps

warms me up, back and forth
prolongs his leg, goes
from minuet to pavane

strides old-fashioned deeper
adds quick pushes
then unchains himself
      
from allemande to courante
and leads me into the sixth heaven
slowly flying there sarabande
      
around with me, in expectation
enjoying
each other and longing
      
for the delayed presto
touch on the sensitive strings
ending on the highest note

They all sympathise

and write their best intentions --


to put in the urn.

Green on green, the grub

eats its way to the calyx --


to change colour there.

Rustling lanes, winding roads
the rippling on the bank
of the path along the river

wherever the land is not buried
under city, I walk my days
in the smell of rotting

Mushrooms, spider webs
birds in the undergrowth
and dearest to me are the wild
flowers, thistles, chicory
pink anemones and poppies

I admire the gaunt, the sallow
the beauty under
the beauty of
the scars, the life
they pass on

I am where I am
and want to be
I drink my mother
and breathe my father
I root in my mother
and grow in my father

I'm in the prime of
the best time of
my life, the spring of
my life, where I am
where the grass is greener
and where I want to stay

At night the sky is dark
when the moon is black
by day the sun often shines
behind the clouds
when it rains I get wet
and then I dry again

So everything stays the same
repeated over and over and
within that security I can change
almost unnoticed
while I am who I am
and who I want to be

Mama went to work
we stayed at home
could not get out
snow, no shoes

silence everywhere
fear of the police
and suppressed madness
which strangles desires

without killing them
impossible love
only the daily potatoes
hoping for a piece

of the repeated promises
for us, the children, and now
that we are no longer children
for our children

This music is so

nice that I play it even --


better than I can!

On the times they had

a quarrel, she lectured him --


from his own poems.

She is unswerving,

imperious: a fortress --


may not move, never.

Girls tease each other,

just to attract attention --


from the toughest boys.