Yet your desires too

move on large wheels -- do not run


over anyone!

I sweep up the shards

of my feelings, it's more soul --


than I expected.

My perspective between the rusty leaves
is a dream house on the edge of the forest
picked up on the way, in the fall

Rich colours in the sun caress
the wooden skin flakes
of Mother Earth

and I am passing by
just a moment
a guest

An automatic

gun does not fire by itself --


There is time to think.

The corner café

must close, because times have changed --


There is a new law.

Only if I don't pay attention
I see my thoughts
reflected in the world

and myself as a full moon
in the light of mankind
with, here and there, some spots

of defects, blood
shrinkage and disability
and shadows of bragging

then I know myself so light
as if I were the sun
as if it were me

who makes the moons shine
and the seagulls scream out
the day over the canal

Only now that I pay attention
I see the moons of my life
we are old

my thoughts and I, my world
from the new to the old moon

Mind what you see
then you see your life
from the new to the old moon

The wind blows, the trees

are bare and wet, the full moon --


glides pale behind them.

Textbooks in a heap,

the pages held together --


by dog-ears only.

Vividly coloured

straw flowers in the snowfield --


but they do not smell.

First you slurp water,

and from inside, it slurps you:


isn't that called drowning?

I'm just hanging
around the house
all to myself
the *** of tea, the table

the rooms of our house
with its new windows
the scratches in the cabinet
all the presents

that I gave to you
and the poster of the glistening
water on the horizon
with the shadow of a ship

I'm just hanging
around in your absence
incapable of action, so strong
and close is your presence

Deep into the night,

he read, deep into the words –


We're digging him out.

At night, full trains standing still
between the erigeron
The grass **** wobbles a bit

The water sighs
little waves over the railway
Geese splash around

Bye Atlantis
Bye floating gardens
Thank you, all the best

We're flying out
the earth is open
Where to, where to?

Rombom, the sun will come
Zirconium sparkles, colours
expectation everywhere

It paints our desire
promises us love and happiness
- a fabulastic home

Automatic belts

work without having to switch --


Are they analogue?

The old threshold is

not worn out, my visitors --


step right over it.

The bookkeeper counts

the legacy, a drawer --


filled up with poems.

The lunar orbit,

the decline of my body:


it all goes slowly.

The past heroes rest

in the dilapidated --


inn that the world is.

The sky is clear blue,

the day is new, I am free --


from expectations.

I've an aversion

to fighting and to people --


The fight of my life.

We were once ashamed

together, now I'm ashamed --


of you, against you.

After the **** breach,

somewhere in the water, still --


a howling siren.

As a reader I

would like to buy with each book --


reading time as well.

The moon shines sorrow

into me, yet I'm looking --


through a haze of tears.

I'm floating on mists,

without legs: the Witch Mountain --


early at daybreak.

On a parachute

I'm gliding into the day --


I jumped from my dream.

I'm wearing flowers,

coarse, prickly, it doesn't matter --


I want to bleed them.

Shall I continue
to wait
alone at the table?

My eyes jump
and wave Help Help Help
Ships sail past

I cry
louder and louder
with my shoulders
but I'm invisible
City and county are flooded

ships are sinking
packed
Help Help Help

Oh, shall I
shall I continue
to wait?

Look for a long time -

you'll merge into the colour:


into It, Something.

Another same day,

I search familiar details --


for a difference.

Come and sit with us,

just take that chair over there --


standing all alone.

You left us behind,

there is distance now, increased --


by a few letters.

Above the pilgrims

it flies, the large parasol:


a butterfly swarm.

Flight fantasies, vacation
'Mind your step'
Security procedures, waiting at the gate

I close my eyes
my thoughts take the autowalk
to destinations with a runway

The lock of the jetway fails
one meter before the cabin door
'Mind your step'

.....Flight fantasies, security
.....'Tomorrow I'll get there'
.....Security procedures, waiting at the fence

.....I close my eyes
.....my thoughts take a high flight
.....to a future on the other side

.....I land in a camp again
.....at a higher fence, a closed gate
.....'Tomorrow I'll get there'

In the last darkness
before dawn, after the party
I wander through the city
my familiar city

The sky is clear
I have no idea
what I would want

The river glides by
Empty quays, no traffic
silence around the monuments
and everything neatly swept

Naked people made
of marble and paint
live in the museum palaces

The princesses play cards
in the basement of the servants
and my steps resound
in the floodlight of time

It's Friday the thirteenth
again. I stay at home
due to circumstances:

a dragging wind
and storming sirens
The cameras break

taboos and peek
into windowless sleeping
rooms, front pieces

after the wind of roughskirts
who celebrate their gains
in stinking silence. I close

the curtains, my eyes and mouth
I'm not here, hello hello
don't you see I'm not here

and I can do nothing about it -
absent due to circumstances
which I can do nothing about

In the gusts of wind,

the waves foam yellowish green --


and.. a boat dances.

I am an island,

I just have to wait and see --


if Love docks with me.

He is sweet, but a man
In order to protect me
he loses

himself in impotence
acting tall
doesn't want to be consolable

on his haunches in the corner
hesitates to change
and ponders about a miracle

from himself, hungrily
the fire beats out of his heart
searching for fuel and glory

seeking balance and afraid
to find it in the ashes
of his desires

Here, the urban crowd,

and there, an extensive field --


I'm feeling lonely.

Sadness disappears

in ever wider circles --


of re-retelling.

Why aren't there angels

keeping watch, not even here --


in Los Angeles?

Unsatisfied needs

will accumulate to waves --


of ferocity.

Total harmony

of the universe: the drone


hole in God's big Ear.

Slap, slap, the stickers

instantly turn my body --


into an object.

Away with the vice

squad-patriarchy: I am --


Boss Of My Belly!

Whatever reasons

we suggest, we will do it --


mainly for ourselves.

I have woken up,

where am I? In an ocean --


of sleeping silence?

There's a thunderstorm,

lightning above me, rumbling --


deep beneath my feet.

The white butterfly

moves, to save it, I quickly --


put out the candle.