Prosperity in city and country, see
the light under the clouds in the showroom
of earthly paradise, see

a glimpse of ourselves
in the looks of those days
the beauty of their attention

their desires
in younger years of the world –
the same as ours

We process and preserve
we build and improve
we create the beauty

in which we want to live
Here it is collected, see
it is good

Walls can both protect

and confine you, lock you in --


until they collapse.

Men after the war:

they are still hard, their voices,


their hands, and their lust.

I walk through the village
The sun shines, the wind blows
a little through my hair

The shutters are closed
with chinks thin as needles
with long narrow eyes
      
My shadow doesn't fall inside
anywhere, there are none
in the dim rooms
      
where the light drearily
obscures what is going on
and what the consequences are

of everyone's comings and goings
The peeping people press me
as compelling devils

out of their eyes
out of the chinks in their lives
The sun upon me is insufferable

Just a little note

from God on the church door: Closed --


I'm off for a while.

You can't see it
in the room, not on the floor
you can't see it anymore
      
in my sheath, the wound
of his blind attack
it's over, I am
      
myself, my body
washed, my home recaptured
ready for the fight
      
with you, whoever you are
you follow, until I release you
until I release myself

it is my bed, my belly
your pleasure has to wait
for what I want

because I didn't want to
not to see, not to feel, not to remember
I wandered over the ceiling

the nothing of nowhere
I was not there, not at home
in this room, on this floor

The old goat just stares

at me, I realise this --


is what is farewell.

The slowed down breathing

of the towering water --


walls of the ocean.

A magpie inspects

what is trusted, what is new --


around my new house.

He flaunts the flowers,

gives them to me, ignorant --


what it is to pose.

I was a stranger

when I arrived, I still am --


now that I must go.

It's always like this,

whenever I am happy --


I feel so lonely.

We broke up and now

we give our little sweet words --


to a new lover.

As long as the paint is wet
my finger writes
my diary
in colourful blends

Unspoken questions
dipped hue after hue
and curl in curl on the tip
of my finger, layer on layer

a gobstopper of memories
which I slowly lick off, every time
I want to taste their flavours
and reread my life

The bellowing wind,

the seagulls and the surf: noise --


that still calms me down.

The rising water is unstoppable
no matter how often it breaks
into wide waves on the beach
The sun is half an hour

above the horizon, hand in hand
we walk in blowing clothes
into our evening off
My hair dances

In the boat at the end
of the pier we kiss
like teenagers, the water sloshes
and the sky turns orange

With my own eyes I see
the sun set, tack-sharp
and I can only think
that the earth ends there

as a worldwide disk
with an edge, an abyss
in which the red-hot sun
briefly blazes up the fire

Do you also make

the mistake of going on --


with what you can't do?

Please, do come, will you?

As quickly as possible --


I'm itching for you!

Shall I still caress

him, stroking through his thin hair?


Will it make him bald?

I wander along the stores
which make the pitch dark less scary
although you never know who may pop up

and that would not be Prince Charming
who can break through his spell
with my love, so that instantly
the shop window is a marriage bed
with sky blue curtains

and we get an enema because
of the spurning the chewable tablets
to let go of the past
and to seal our future
only dressed in a crown

with the red plug in his ****
and the green one in mine
The girls from my work
escort us to the bed
which we mount under applause

Their hands lay us down
and rub us up
for the grand finale

A plunge in the night,

all I can see is a hat --


on the bridge railing.

As if I mocked him
or Love, so wounded
he dreams me

on swift legs
a doe-woman
with bow and arrow

the graceful
counterpart of the centaurs
equally shy, but more slender

equally modest
but not didactic
equally wise, but a woman

equally free, but subject
to his desire to possess
my desires, and to let me

do as he pleases:
to stay sharp in view
as I run, to look with longing

at him, and panting, entangled
in his hands, to keep looking
until he is satisfied

I enjoy paintings,

looking at all kinds of things --


that aren't really there.

Just close your eyes, dream

that you touch and arouse me --


Then do what you dream.

Hygiene costs smooth rooms,

electricity and a --


lot of loneliness.

The universe holds

me, I hold the universe --


with this very thought.

I don't look away
from the mirror, my
body that does not look
like the soul of my skin
knows it was
and can still point out
with fingers of desire
and memory eyes

I ****** yours
to touch me
eagerly hesitant
without knowing what
you are doing, going to do
have done, where
you stop, tingling
and devouring

streaming over
me, in me and
worldwide, sea
in sea, soul in soul
heart to heart
sigh in sigh
blood in blood
peace in peace

From the violence

of two jostling elephants --


the grass is injured.

Bridges are no riches
anymore, they don't offer space
but rush

over my head, they separate
people and confine them
to an island without energy

a void that exhausts me
and that I cannot fill
with the contacts I make

over all the bridges
with which I make shift
for lack of time

to go out the door
and explore my island
a while without agenda

having casual conversations
and meet neighbours
who I can touch

Splashing, dashing waves

in the shoaled harbour: a ship --


it is sailing past.

We didn't need anything
we just bumped against each other
and lay together, if so, a nest
of friends, who know to find each other
no matter how far we've flown out

Become angels, who would have thought!

Our soul connection
so familiar at first sight
at each reunion - forever young
is my chicken heart then, my skin
of flesh and blood, forever young

our spirit - but oddly
detached are our wings
our cheeks and the air kisses
that escape my lips
or have transcended them

Yes, mwaw hwale re hwoot,

so nice, oh ** mwurt, careful --


ow, you're hurting me!

Something is at hand,

so I better find a way --


out of my slumber.

My skin is ageing,

it is my unseen secret –


I'm undercover.

The hilly country

gives us to drink from its lap --


heavenly nectar.

Can love heal my heart,

wanting to be here with you --


and longing for her?

The harbour bell blocks

all men with colourful socks --


in the Northern Docks.

The earth makes me move,

each day she embraces me --


in another way.

Don't think of yourself!

Join me, you would never want --


me to go alone!

Pulling the curtains

I open up a day off:


hi bird, hi-i wind!

Company is nice,

always I want it, always --


it's too much for me.

Fans must stand in line,

that is the generic law --


of imitation.

Please come with your Skin

to my Body, the Temple --


of the Sacred Touch.

Little raindrops tap

softly, rumble heavily --


down on the fish scales.

Two chubby maggots:

hopping around, drilling holes --


in the barren land.

I am in the field,

surrounded by butterflies --


on my floral blouse.

Slow lava creeps up

on you and it swallows you --


There is nothing left.

She doesn't want to smell

like she does smell now, unwashed --


It's turning men on.

First sounds of the day,

and my soul already sings --


along with the world.

There is something, It

is earthly, I sense it, shreds --


of a mystery.