That sense of yellowing and falling
to an adornment around my feet
the richness of what was, what wasn't

missing, I know that well
but I'm not looking at it
the way my friends do

Only for a while do they join me
down in my beauty and gratitude
and then they quickly stand back

aside again
looking into the pit
in which I am budding

That sense of hard work
on the balance beam and whoopee
I live, io vivo, I know that well

I do not fall, I plus up
and subtract, step by step
I go further than they do

Sometimes you look up, listening
whether there is anyone, then I don't fall
into your arms, we are not so
intimate with each other
regardless how much I love you

I get as close as possible
I whiten my shadows, bath me
in the scents of your home
and sneak around like a ghost
without a sheet

Sometimes something creaks
then you look up for a moment
without seeing where I am
and I answer your thoughts
with Chance

and the feeling of being alone
peacefully alone at home
there is no kissing
no sleeping together
and no one is missed

We are close together
without touching each other
we do that underground

in the airy worm bed
far from the chattering magpies
on our arms, the arrows

of the squeaky parakeets
with the news of the day
and the screaming gulls

We do it in the dark
licking each other's juices
and we intertwine

Ants, we don't tolerate
nowhere on our skin
they have to go elsewhere

where the parties are
fungi and lice galore
not here

Hey, there you are again
What a coincidence. I am here again
Well, we both are, like yesterday
Are those rolling motion shoes?

Oh, that's a birthmark
here, you mean, you point
right here? no
don't come any closer!

.....You're already scorching me!
.....you ignite my imagination
.....it starts to burn
.....the smoke clouds me

.....and I like to blaze splendidly
.....until nothing is left of me
.....and then arise again, jump
.....again, into the fire

.....of desire
.....dance in the flames
.....glow together forever
.....Where shall we meet?

.....I'd like to get to know you
.....although I wonder:
.....does fire know the bodies
.....to which it jumps?

We swarm across the border
where the threshold was a wall
the guards are large-sighted
the farmers plow on

We push our way out of the cold
through the roses on the right, the lilies on the left
red and white the leaves
swirling behind us

We are many
more tomorrow
thunder rolls through the clouds
the children become restless

the parents get them home
on the way, they still glow
with freedom, at home
they close the doors

with infected hands
there is not enough soap
and not enough stock
to keep us at bay

We escape time and time again
nail open new houses
dive inside
and unleash a flood

A baby doesn't talk,

yet you do understand him –


better than adults.

A bang, the IC

devices are still working --


The sheets must be changed.

A beast is pushing

to freedom, under my skin –


and it makes me dance.

This in between the operations
is, in my opinion, what it is about
Your right words from time to time
in a bed of soft energy
in which I feel safe:

you are allowed to know
everything about me
but for now
it is too complicated
a beautiful mystery

you call me
My father is great
but he does not see me
I have to make me small
roll up in myself

Say something
do something
but don't touch me
the eyes in your hands
may not read me now

because what you think
is not right, too beautiful
is your image of me
as if I am someone else
even if that is true

A big party, we

laugh and sing, louder, wilder,


and more and more -- free.

A black word is quick;

it strikes irrevocably --


and right in the heart.

A bolt: once again

I sit in the sand, painting –


with moddymuddy.

A boss claims to be

caring, but he is a child --


that always wants more.

About green, I know

little: the father is blue –


the mother yellow.

Sometimes I look in the mirror
and I see a look
of recognition

that jumps from my body
to my mind, my thoughts
about myself

Sometimes mum says something
about dad that she recognizes in me
and sometimes I like it

but I prefer to be a mix
of traits from mum
dad, the grandmas, and grandads

who must have seen it
but I did not recognize their look
of recognition

Sometimes I firmly say something
and right away doubt springs upon me
while the others are certain

that those words of mine
do say a lot
about me

Above my sadness,

swallows are swiftly winging –


in the laughing winds.

Above the black fields,

above the young green wheat, hear!


There the skylark sings!

Above the pilgrims

it flies, the large parasol:


a butterfly swarm.

Above us, the rust

holes in the roof are sparkling:


the stars of the day.

Again I come to taste you
in the buzz of the evening

at the Abracadabar, it does
not smell like then, but like you

blossoming above everything
the senses are singing around

they nest in me
until the two of us will remain
and go home together

Eyes, lips, chest, and belly
tears at tough self-mockery
I put everything in the dish

for my company, a man
you could have been

Tonight, the remaining question is
who will join who

in the magic
of his thoughts

A chimney, hidden

under the smoke: here is fire --


water earth and air.

The sun falls diagonally
along the shadow of the extension
upon the threshold of the house
upon the woman in the door

What did draw her
to this outpost of the old?

where there is no path anymore
to get there
where there is no fence, no border
where everything is open, empty

without a beginning
of going somewhere

There's a ***** in the curtains
her long shirt falls open
and her body senses
a presence

something
going to happen

A circle of pink

petals spreads around the bush --


fully packed with buds.

A cow is a cow,

anywhere in the world she --


looks at you deeply.

She bends over, her buttocks on show
while she puts her shoes away
She never looks through the window

I never can make contact with her
across the street and expose
me and my desire

It is hot, it's blowing so hot
through the city that I would leave
space in between us, caress her

only lightly, not lie against her
and first put out the light
or close the curtains, with a *****

by the window, happy to lie
awake from the heat, next to her
close to her body

A crown on her head

and three candles on the cake –


cream around her smile.

Acts of resistance

have to be secret, only –


the victor can tell.

A culpable hand

can clean itself by washing --


someone else's hand.

A dark flock of mud

sheep in the evening twilight –


infinite heathland.

A day without wine,

two glasses of wine at most --


just three large glasses.

A deep thinker goes

far, he can't help to get lost –


in space and in time.

A deliberate

error at the end, humble –


pinnacle of pride.

A diet, sports sweat,

and supplements are offered --


health is demanded.

A ditchwater's sky,

the road, moonlit, with the trees –


silently grown old.

It happened, he died
I saw him lie in state
leaving his house, many people
joined and whispered

It had not been sorted out yet
but his defense was so slight
it didn't even make the newspaper

The bearers said he was guilty
boys threw paint on his terrace
the bells were ringing, a dog started
barking as hard as he could

A dog woofs woofwoof,

and I ask: What do you mean? –


The dog woofs woofwoof.

In the past you had pictures

of an old crooked man with a stick
like in the riddle, and a white beard

in a long point to the ground, and
next to him was a baby on the threshold

of the new year, the new god:
Lord Adonis, welcome to your home

Bethlehem, the house of spring
flowers, grain, and bread

welcome also in Amsterdam
where we blast without believing

that there are evil spirits to be chased
away – it's an expensive pleasure

to celebrate that we live
hope for happiness and are grateful

wishing that the good continues
in terms of health and daring

to trust in peace – if
we live up to all of this, then

I gladly will put a baby
picture in my book next year

A door may open,

in any blind wall, it will --


be a door of love.

A downpour, open

the door, then we all watch it --


not saying a word.

A downpour: people

run to the ice-cream parlour --


to lick waiting time.

A dream, a moan, I

look and see myself lying --


stretched out on the road.

A feather over

circles in the town canal --


Domestic wildlife.

A few gusts of wind

sweep away my memories –


I'm falling apart.

Appearances are an art, a few strokes
form out of paint, an intimate experience
of velvet, skin and sadness

There is no better job
than feeling proximity and depth
shamelessly direct, like in bed

Appearances are deceptive, my insolvency
is just a façade, like a name
given to you in ignorance

I no longer have debts
nor money, I earn nothing
and can work without worries

So let the pious people talk
I take care of Hendrickie
and Titus, everything is theirs

Half the world is free, celebrating
peace on earth, but a friend
of my husband has problems

with his wife, he stays with us
for a while (entertaining)

In the evening he tells stories
about the foreigners in our city
where he wouldn't want to live

afraid of the uninvited guests
afraid of losing what he has

his income, his stuff
maybe even his wife
I see that he doesn't dare to give

love, doesn't dare to think
and live great ideas

Only in small gestures
casually from his back pocket
his conscience speaks

of liberty
equality and fraternity

A freethinker thinks

about questions, the answers --


he doesn't want to hear.

A friend, familiar

as the dog: a compliment --


and contempt as well.

A frugal half light

is sufficient for wise words --


since they shine themselves.

After a few years,

his love is dull, his smell not --


pleasant anymore.

After her reproach,

the street noise only slowly --


returns to his mind.