I'm out of the bath,

the night wind dries me, somewhere --


a laughing squirrel.

Like a precious stone

in the landscape of her skin:


the eye of the cow.

Eavesdropping always

changes something, except when --


it's done secretly.

A little flower,

delicate between sharp stones --


that's what life feels like.

Shall I still caress

him, stroking through his thin hair?


Will it make him bald?

In the evening, the river is a theater
the water carries the music
to our ears, the romance

of a saxophone, sunset
twinkling in the wine and the church
rosy, completely gentle grace

Tourists pretend click clack
that not they, but we, are the extras
and the city were a cardboard set:

theme park Paris l'amour
young people on the quays around
a pillar candle and kissing

couples as it should be
in the sunthrowers of the tourist vessels
gleam the spots in the corners

that you can smell

Is peace to be free

while a war is raging on --


in other countries?

The old goat just stares

at me, I realise this --


is what is farewell.

Her pious father

locks me up and my girlfriend --


he pulls to the bed.

A culpable hand

can clean itself by washing --


someone else's hand.

I overheard friends

laughing, talking about me --


I disappoint me.

The wind lashes rain

on the windowpane, so nice --


that I am inside.

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

The envoys of Athens
in their comfortable carriages
democratically stripped of finery

are dignified by the inability
to make a decision, divided
by all the nuances of reason

They'll have to wait
because we don't have any news
from our informants yet

We sprinkle the goat
with lukewarm water, it does not shiver
so the god will not speak

until the stars are right again
and we are informed
about the politics of the monarchs

We save expenses nor pains
We are the dedicated priests
of a notable consulting business

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

I exist, I do

want to be noticed by friends --


truly, as I am.

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

I can see myself

dancing on fast and light feet --


all without stumbling.

From the violence

of two jostling elephants --


the grass is injured.

It's better to be


dead serious than to be --



seriously dead.

Do you also make

the mistake of going on --


with what you can't do?

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

The slowed down breathing

of the towering water --


walls of the ocean.

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 hilly country

gives us to drink from its lap --


heavenly nectar.

Clouds passing over

the sun give life to the floor --


it breathes up and down.

A plunge in the night,

all I can see is a hat --


on the bridge railing.

It's always like this,

whenever I am happy --


I feel so lonely.

The bellowing wind,

the seagulls and the surf: noise --


that still calms me down.

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

He flaunts the flowers,

gives them to me, ignorant --


what it is to pose.

Splashing, dashing waves

in the shoaled harbour: a ship --


it is sailing past.

Hygiene costs smooth rooms,

electricity and a --


lot of loneliness.

A feather over

circles in the town canal --


Domestic wildlife.

Just a little note

from God on the church door: Closed --


I'm off for a while.

We broke up and now

we give our little sweet words --


to a new lover.

Men after the war:

they are still hard, their voices,


their hands, and their lust.

They keep arguing

in my presence, obviously --


I need to know this.

My skin is ageing,

it is my unseen secret –


I'm undercover.

The night sky is full

of thunder-strokes and lightning --


from my intentions.

Please, do come, will you?

As quickly as possible --


I'm itching for you!

Winter light eats the wide hill
ever barer, buzzards hover over

the headstones in the fertile soil
which for centuries bore olive trees

The souls are elsewhere, where Israel
takes them, the remains perish

in black cloths, to be the first people
to enter the new world on the day

the gate of mercy opens
That is what the dead have lived

and fought for, for that
they have won against the god of war

they have conquered the city, with the source
that breaks out of the earth

Jerusalem, where I suffer
from divided togetherness

Will children of my grandchildren
collect their bones, honour them and

grow olives here again
with sky-high twigs of peace?

In the compartment

window, we kiss and we merge --


with the May blossoms.

I am in the field,

surrounded by butterflies --


on my floral blouse.

Spotlights, reflected

off the gold celebrity:


image on image.

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

Fans must stand in line,

that is the generic law --


of imitation.

Eight pumps Premium,

one pump Regular: the world --


is turned upside down.

As a child I roamed

the grounds, barefoot through puddles --


and I still do that.

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