The dancer, amazed,

keeps revealing secret doors --


that no one can see.

The Oracle knows

what I want, that's what she gives --


me as her advice.

Back in the Garden

of Love, I walk around lost --


among gravestones.

The lightning dances

yellowly on the ridges --


It's an event here.

They steal her beauty

with compliments, and laugh at --


the mutilation.

We say goodbye, short

- long - stop, the signalling code --


of: I think of you.

It intrudes, kicks things

upside down and connects me --


to people: music.

In the new country

I follow a friend, stepping --


within his footprints.

The famous writer

never needs that many words --


just: The sea is large.

It is all pastel,

the light, the music and I --


this very spring day.

My heart beats action,

so my mind follows, almost –


forgetting to breathe.

The buried people

are present in the silence --


rustling in the wind.

I am my angel,

who will always follow me --


who helps me in need.

Chapel in the woods:

inside, the flames are flaring --


autumnal silence.

India is much

more than chaos: through and through --


logical chaos.

You are beautiful,

taste it! It is on my tongue --


it's kissing your lips.

In stories about

the past we read how people --


looked back at the time.

I am dizzy high

in the sky, I have no hold --


other than a rose.

When you wrote my name

in the sand I wrote your name --


nicely over it.

She looks at the child

with love and understanding --


It grows right away.

Blue lights, pink answers,

tomfoolery all about --


Feel free to join us!

A day without wine,

two glasses of wine at most --


just three large glasses.

Saturday: bags-day.

Groceries, sport, and ******* --


The day of unrest.

I do not dare yet,

I wait and leave it to chance --


which does not arise.

After a few years,

his love is dull, his smell not --


pleasant anymore.

It takes me a lot

of time to properly show --


my inner beauty.

The river bulges

up to the edge, I'm afraid --


must see it myself.

Are you an angel, am I a dog?
Are you from heaven and I from hell?
Or are you a dog, my dog?
And will we go to hell together?

Where are you taking me?
Where am I taking you?
Why do you want to love me?
What can I ever give you?

The more you love me
the more I have to
betray your love, tear it apart
like a dog at the gate

The more you believe in me, the more
I'll bite back until your love is dead
at the gates of heaven
or the gates of hell

What I meant to say

carefully, in my letter,


I have omitted.

Your despair against

my hope, nose to nose, only --


a door in between.

No minor issue can be made
of the stinking discomfort
my body has become
because of the remix with pills
trying out
better versions of me

With a mouthful of Latin
the doctor lets everyone
speechless with bated breath
in the danger zone
of my sweat and gases
have a look

into the cold beak
between my legs
There I lie
thinking of the cloud
of friends around my bed
in which I relieve my soul

The dying man gets

married, the ring binds his name --


to the newborn child.

I surrender and

dance, at home, across the room --


singing with my arms.

It's a merry day,

we dance on the earth *****:


feet full of music.

I don't join in, I

don't live like the others do --


I don't live, they think.

I'm expectant and

I'm ready to write it down:


the northern lights, there!

I'm caught in a net,

not in your, but in my net --


of expectations.

On the peak I dream

of La Vie Parisienne --


in Tijuana.

High in the mountains:

the silence, the absence, most --


of all of myself.

The news, every day:

fires are burning in the streets --


right out of the hearts.

It's a quiet day.

I'm standing at the window --


contemplating rain.

Are you coming, today
I like to look at you again
laugh with you
and listen to you

Come, walk around
in my house, let me
look at you, the step aside
the tension of your buttocks

and your lips
that will kiss me
your hands that are allowed
to do everything I long for

I will not ask too much from you
you don't have to commit yourself
not for longer than I live
not to what you fear

You don't have to take care of me
just leave me alone
when I'm sick
It's enough

that you think of me

The grand narratives

didn't really happen that way --


they are lies, true lies.

I said what I thought

I knew about dust, that it --


does not turn to dust.

So you do love him,

you really love him, so much --


that you admit it?

Storm, I am awake

and I hear the stars stamping --


in the night stables.

At regular times

a message comes, stating: this --


connection exists.

Whatever comes over
as desire, only briefly
sticks to my experience
how relative it is

I can live, I am free
from deficiencies, I do not suffer

from pain, passion or troubles
not from the chaos of love
or ambition, I don't wait to see
what I get thrown

I am too good for that
my friends tell me too

I follow my interests
and that's not the way
of motherhood
and high expectations

but that of the beauty
of you name it

in which I am silently absorbed
One thought
without thinking
of anything else

The ground beneath her

feet has taken her, the earth --


whose praises I sang.

The ritual after work
in the dark at the end
of the evening twilight

The dim light of the low clouds
in 1883, when the nights in the country
were still black

The farmer stoops
poking a dry smell
from the weeds of the day

It lingers
in a plume of smoke
above the sparks