Bring our friend home,

go to him, bring him around --


with all my ardour!

The tin drum throws me

back into my childhood days --


everything's in it.

Swimming hand in hand

isn't easy, we take a rest –


with salty kisses.

John Rabb holds Sunday

service in nature, with ***** --


he celebrates life.

"Each day a party",

I only have to make time --


and hang up garlands.

Getting old, no time

anymore to keep order --


in what I witness.

Before I can take

off my hat, I have to wait --


for a good moment.

What is love now, since

you're gone and I am dying --


in how it was then?

You only need to

understand yourself, really --


no one needs to know.

The sexton enjoys

lamenting about God's love --


and the vale of tears.

The bird-watcher hit

a pole in the meadow and --


now he lies in wait.

Not living for later
but together, social
and respected

The king loathes it
He takes palaces and farmsteads
His taxation breaks

the compliance, cold
causes hunger
Threat of war

Propaganda points the way:
there is a saviour, a Father
of the Nation, he protects

the refugees from Antwerp
and the trade, he will
drive out tyranny

that beheads dukes and puts
believers at the stake, that makes
the country pay for the oppression

It was great
to be king
but I don't have the power

to stop the end
they undress me completely
and smear me with grease

with pipes, they blow dust gold
on me, they cover me
with years of envy

The procession leads me
to the throne on the raft
it is a ruthless play

Shining in the light
of my father, the sun
I float across the lake

to lurking eyes
on the other side
that would come to skin me

if I didn't have a wash
and hastily gave the sun
to the greedy water

Underwater ice

solidly reflects colours --


into the deep sea.

I've got everything,

my soul must be here as well –


or do I see spooks?

Sharply squeaking chicks,

the sliding flight of the storks --


to the sky-high nest.

Don't ask for the sense

of what's happening to you --


no, you must keep heart!

The tip of your tongue

is beautiful, red and round --


Delicious candy.

Well, I think a lot

is wrong, very unhealthy --


they are: opinions.

A reconstruction:

you get closer and you see --


nothing but vague spots.

Am I unworldly?

And should I suffer with you?


Is my pain too small?

A dog woofs woofwoof,

and I ask: What do you mean? –


The dog woofs woofwoof.

Follow love around,

even though I don't want you --


or you flee from me.

Walking past the signs 'Former
Red Light District' I know I'm dreaming
of a better future

I can imagine it much more easily
than what it is like
to be a man

who buys the use of a body
without any notion what's wrong
I must arm myself against him

Walls? Dullness? Claws?
And company, then I can
laugh at jealous eyes

and the greedy ones
looking away from me
to someone else - no one

will I greet as my master
everyone welcomes me, Servus
where there was once war

With wet feet, the storks

easily potter about --


amidst lots of food.

The civil servants

are angry with their colleagues:


so bureaucratic!

High in the mountains
the giants sleep on the roofs
no one sees them
we dream them

when we are young
and folded in ourselves
making great plans
for the world we know

we are already on our way
just landed here
for a while, to grow
on our sky canopy bed

until we wake up
as heroes who put right
what has been made amiss
by the little people

Talking at public tables
and parties mixed up
with the music

seeing a yellow thought
turn orange
frankly and flushed

in the nest of fuss
blending warmly
into welcoming comfort

hanging out in each other
untwisted
wet from living

and then coated again
going outside into the music
of the rain

It's like a Hopper

painting, sitting on a bench --


next to my father.

With wide arms I listen
With hands full of green ears
Polyphonic whispers of fluff
Fine traces of sound
on the bench

A woman and her daughter
look around, the girl stares
and says with wobbling legs

I'll be a mum just like you
with a daddy and a child
who thinks this is the most beautiful place
of all, the whole world, the universe

*

The girl plays with a ball
pulls a flake of my bark
asks: is your name scratched in it?
What is he old, isn't he, triple thick I think
and those lumps, would he be sick?

Her mother laughs and takes the picture
she wished to have had of herself:
the girl, and I incognito

not as wise, not as full
high and wide
of past as I am now
and smaller than what I know

of all the people
who caressed me
of all the wishes
they shared with me

I shall let you in,

into my dream if you will --


kiss me in your dream.

If dead were to dream

they would definitely dream --


of death all the time.

Snoozing, a quarter

past two is like half past two --


Rounded: three o'clock.

You are here with me

and the world is everywhere --


You can talk through it.

Everything blossoms

in light and heat, attention –


is just like sunshine.

Don't fear disaster,

grandma says, but I dream it --


happens anyway.

Salt biting my skin,

tides rinsing me out, the sea --


pulling me along.

It's the love of men:

obedient to witches --


longing for a friend.

He was new here, young
no threat, he was allowed
to lend a hand

To survive, he had to be worth
himself and get to know
the people in this country

There was no path mapped out for him
Nobody expected something from him
Soon he started his own business

He became rich because of the stupidity
and the self-interest of the regents
He bought up surplus harvests

and built expensive barns
to safeguard the food
against rain and vermin

He was indispensable, an authority
strengthening the dynasty
His daughter became Queen

The promised city

for beggars: there are no roads --


leading there at all.

You can be so hard,

then I kiss and caress you –


soft as a baby.

I sometimes miss it:

a turban and a harp played --


for me by a boy.

I wait for wind, the skippers wave at me
but I am just as ready for the sea
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
I'm lying in the harbour, lying on the quay
just bobbing in the harbour, this and every day
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
My plans are stored away, are stored away
provisions for tomorrow, for another day
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
I'm staring at the sails, I stare and keep staring
at easy ins and outs, the moving, moving
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
Those sails are tight and bulging, not a rip or tear
while nothing happened here, no, nothing happens here
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
I watch the skippers sailing out, they roam and roam
but I don't catch the wind, and stay at home, at home
....There is no wind anymore
....not a breath of wind anywhere
There is no wind anymore
not a breath of wind anywhere

Her poetry is also about me
even though it isn't entirely true
there ís a fire in my belly

maybe it can be put out
but as long as it burns, it desires
the best of you

that does not lust after my beauty
to penetrate my lips
but is longing

for the best of me
the heavy whole, holy
and safe, my home

that I formed myself
from the metal of my body
and the silk of my spirit

A man falls over,

luckily I can't see more --


There are bystanders.

When my sorrow broke,

I bought a pack of old grief --


Now I'm a poet.

Teens in the school yard


like to play with the soft ***** --



of being in love.

Getting some shut-eye

while leaning against mama --


And listening in.

Silent night, pale-black

black the sky, high the full moon --


peace over the earth.

Mothers are happy

to live worriedly the lives --


of their family.