It's always like this,

whenever I am happy --


I feel so lonely.

Eight pumps Premium,

one pump Regular: the world --


is turned upside down.

A feather over

circles in the town canal --


Domestic wildlife.

We're barbarians:

people who destroy what they --


do not understand.

He flaunts the flowers,

gives them to me, ignorant --


what it is to pose.

Men after the war:

they are still hard, their voices,


their hands, and their lust.

Alas, making love

is the worst, so self-conscious --


we are, both of us.

Just a little note

from God on the church door: Closed --


I'm off for a while.

My skin is ageing,

it is my unseen secret –


I'm undercover.

We broke up and now

we give our little sweet words --


to a new lover.

The audience isn't

listening to the concert --


It's background music.

Please, do come, will you?

As quickly as possible --


I'm itching for you!

I like the attic,

sitting in the armchair, in --


front of the window.

Company is nice,

always I want it, always --


it's too much for me.

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

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

Notre-Dame, she is quite old: although she may
bury Paris, which has witnessed her birth, one day
But in thousand years or more, Time will make recoil
her heavy body, like a wolf does with a bull
and twist each iron axon, each of her neurones
to gnaw alas, with its blunt tooth, her bones of stones!

Many men will overflow the island in the Seine
to contemplate the barren ruin, the last remains
dreamers, re-reading what Victor Hugo has seen ahead:
- Then they'll think they see the old basilica
as it was, mighty and magnificent, a Gloria
rising up before them like the shadow of a dead!

Don't think of yourself!

Join me, you would never want --


me to go alone!

We don't do any-

thing, we avoid rejection --


avoid rapprochement.

Please come with your Skin

to my Body, the Temple --


of the Sacred Touch.

The universe holds

me, I hold the universe --


with this very thought.

Can love heal my heart,

wanting to be here with you --


and longing for her?

Under the cedar

next to my house is a bench --


for new encounters.

In the neon light,

shadows appear and vanish --


Strolling nightlife girls.

Just close your eyes, dream

that you touch and arouse me --


Then do what you dream.

I enjoy paintings,

looking at all kinds of things --


that aren't really there.

Pulling the curtains

I open up a day off:


hi bird, hi-i wind!

I pick up plants from the street and slow down
Caring with soil, scissors and cotton wool
I slow down and cook, for him, and with him
everything else slows down. I don't do much

At first wilfully, daily exercises
and meditation, my body asked for it
Attention

Esther covered my skin, he caresses
it, he catches my navel lint
Childish games, silly jokes
Giggling like a lama

Cuddling, energy
from the sun behind my clouds
Peace of on and off buttons

The slower ******* and spitting
of the ganglia in my head
No more overdrive
All neural pathways know it

Two chubby maggots:

hopping around, drilling holes --


in the barren land.

At parties I try

to leave soon, always longing --


for festivity!

Evening twilight lays

intimacy in the world --


tenderness in me.

The circus! Led by

the animal with the nose --


that can walk along.

You do not want me,

it is empty inside me --


There is room for you.

The harbour bell blocks

all men with colourful socks --


in the Northern Docks.

As a priest one serves

in the churches in the hell --


of confessionals.

Yes, mwaw hwale re hwoot,

so nice, oh ** mwurt, careful --


ow, you're hurting me!

Gold chips on the street

can't be real, such a party --


would be pathetic.

With the proceeds he bought the bank
the water company and computer halls
Modern Monopoly. He invested
in advanced filters and the internet

With a wink he kept his title
'Landlord'. Ah, the good old days
Now we are the owners, we pay
the subscriptions and pay off our debt

Things are going well, fewer members
are active, there is talk on the sidelines
and self-interested owners
collect proxies

The administrator acts
opportunistically and follows
the outside world
There is a call

for another system:
with so little involvement
a transfer of power will do -
blank until business is done

The Spartan women,

sitting on the salty shore --


are combing their hair.

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

Well, is man still in

the cradle of Earth? Would it --


predict anything?

The world a maze
under the nut tree
in this well-arranged garden

Follow a path
learn how it goes
what is important

Travel with strangers
experiencing the secret
with our senses

And reach further
re-create the world
beyond our lives

This is our world
how it was and can be
carefully we reach

For beauty and stories
we reach
for contact

With other lives
we connect
we connect
from heart to heart

The percussionists

are counting, they are alert --


to the right moment.

Little raindrops tap

softly, rumble heavily --


down on the fish scales.

The beach would be great

if it did not shine so much --


from the blazing sun.

There are no treasures:

all people are different --


in their own wishes.

I unravel us,

paralysed you are waiting --


until it's over.

The forget-me-not

on your grave sows on your grave --


more forget-me-nots.

Time: a kind of soup

in which we are doing things --


and growing older.

Everything that we

humans can touch is sacred --


Sacred Emptiness.