Come against my chest: I open up
my ribs, navel, and belly. Breathe
in me, lay down on my warm heart

I embrace you, emlimb you. Disappear
in my love my love, let yourself go
in pleasure, do with me. Evaporate

with me, then we will return
for one more time. Fold yourself in
me, fold your wings my angel

then we go to sleep together
in the heaven of our sweat
Come again, my great love

Come all through the gate

of our wedding: Be welcome --


to our paradise!

Come and sit with us,

just take that chair over there --


standing all alone.

Come and visit us,

or do you prefer to wait --


until I am sick?

To find your company
again, I walk
between two worlds

every day
I pass strangers
They are busy

I feel no warmth
in their breath, no warmth
in their renowned pursuits

I don't meet anyone
because here everything is
already said and done

and in the other world
where you are not
I eat and sleep

Without you, I can't stand
it there, rather I wander
through the danger

of my memories
with the enticing risk
of losing my way

Come down from your throne,

do what poor people do, and --


learn something from it.

Come in, look at me,

look at my inner world, my --


inner wallpaper.

Come into my arms,

leave your body, discover --


the soul of your soul.

Come on, get undressed,

I need you right now, so much –


do I love myself.

Come on, wave your love,

overflow me with your tide --


Don't ebb off from me.

Come, take your clothes off

and clamp yourself, I'll give you --


my arms and my legs.

Come, we better go

to bed, it is time to rest –


after our loveplay.

Being in love, with a smile, not blind
to our differences, the life that lies
behind us and the preferences

that, with the fortunate lack
of temerity, are difficult to convince
of the taste and wisdom of others
- heard very, very benevolently
and without indulgence, found
charming, yes, longing for more
content and more togetherness

in the phase that lies ahead, our choices
to be joined softly and smoothly
in shared open spaces

In the city there are many doors
that are open at night
to being awake
experiencing something together
across the threshold
no longer being an outsider

In the city there are many sidewalks
where people stand
and explore distant areas
with flexible words
questions and mental leaps
to become familiar with them

In the city there are many gardens
where children play, birds
whistle and all year round, flowers
attract bees and people
to come and feast
on the nectar of the day

Coming off the tram,

we stand still to watch, the wind --


blows flyers to us.

I crossed this river
now I will

see other people again, love
again, get something done
if I can, fight if necessary

achieve new goals
celebrate other parties
and follow my own paths
      
But tomorrow or later
we'll come together again
by the fire of our friendship

smoldering
flaring up
unquenchable

Common Ipocrites

are very active people –


helping who helps them.

Not a path, but an abyss
Cold wind, threatening clouds
It is inhospitable here

Diagonally in front of me
black leaves crunch open
Straight from the ground

Owls grow from them
they inflate themselves
thoughtful as they are

As if they could fly
they are close to the edge
to keep me from a false step

Behind me, I hear them
shrivel
When I look back quickly

the remnants pretend nothing
is going on, but if I do it calmy
they are completely gone

Company is nice,

always I want it, always --


it's too much for me.

Compulsion has no

perpetrators, just victims --


and accomplices.

Wordless reunion
first, I sense his flanks

his hands over my back
with closed eyes

pressed against each other
who knows the time

Then, with all our muscles
talking our naked self

reflected in the love
of one another's soul: we are

inviolably strong
(though we do have doubts)

Over the roots of breathing
and eating we are singing life

in different words
with the same meaning

Concrete is useful

and poetic, concrete makes –


nature pain concrete.

The hour has struck
Immediately we forget the time
and wish each other all the best
and boredom

that blessed can do everything
with the peaceful ticking
of grandma's clock without the hands
of an agenda that calls Action!

New Year, the realization
that time in ourselves never passes
In one body we are years
of experiences that are not closed

but do themselves well
on new discoveries and occasionally
set us thinking
about how it all comes together

Condolences can

be a battle: whose loss, whose --


sorrow is greater?

Conforming myself,

keeping my mouth shut: my fear --


won't protect me though.

Maybe
it was a dream, fairy-tale
real for him

when he came in and saw me
lying on the bed
without waking up

Maybe
he first looked for a while
until it, all of a sudden, happened by itself

and was done quickly
I screamed
and he fled confusedly

Maybe
he wanted to stay, satisfied, to continue
enjoying my sleeping beauty

A voice asked where we were
I walked out, through the garden
and overlooked the street

I was young, I went

to experience grand beauty
on hands of success, now
I walk on clouds

of electric light
glitter and admiration
celebrating my retirement

in the heaven of parties
star among the stars
smiling beautiful people

pearls, botultox and gel
in semi-gray hair, tireless
in time to the brass

nobody needs to go to the toilet
we are hovering over the beds
in which despair tosses and turns

because of the days and the years
of unsuccessful lives, and we dance
the conga since we are going

nowhere

Control, sympathy,

and longing for a nice time:


the love mystery.

Cooking eggs, I watch

the bubbles in the water --


to dance around in.

Corpse pose: bodyless

I lie and listen, hearing --


the world nothingness.

Corpses in the street

look like humans, but fake ones --


more like broken dolls.

Could it be a sign?

Oh no, signs only appear --


when you don't need them.

Counting down how much

longer it will last: the clock --


of being in love.

The arc of the sun: counted
with marks and stones
showing the shadow

of the days, the differences
in the journey of its light
and the rhythm of the rain

from standstill to standstill
You can measure time
in half years

and see it at intervals
of a few weeks, but
without stones and marks

you will not notice
that you cross a boundary of time
like sailing between the Diomedes

the counting does not match
reality any longer
Calendars are fiction

years too, they have no boundary
no days before and after
that are different

each day is new
and unique as a number
in a series without an end

that's how life goes
the life all of us live
as if there is no end

Countless frogs climb up

over each other's backs and --


fall back down again.

Count your fingers, count

the little raindrops and wait --


if love is coming?

Everyone is brave, really
because all people have a heart

where friends and wishes live
and secrets, and passions

maybe not all four, but
the rooms are never empty

Hearts beat for their guests
and the whole body exists

to protect them
with obliged courage

This is an unknown secret
that only a few do understand

Covered by the night

I visit you secretly --


That is the rumour.

Covered by the night

I visit you secretly --


That is the rumour.

Cows, gazing, and square:

no man would make them like that –


cowpower beauty!

They slip in through a crack
between shame and decency
their bodies lie down

on the disposable covers
and smell the expectation
not the disinfectant

on my hands, not the rubber
around their longing, beating
for my proximity, their imagination

makes me desirable
the woman of their dreams
thought in the flesh

Outside, the Elephant waits
his eyes seem very small
peering inside

until the door opens
and his trunk searches for me
to swing me on his back

Along the curtain, the caress
of the wind that embraces me

in the middle of the sun window
of the floor of the room

my feet on the carpet
reach deep into the earth

my heat salutes the heat
my breath kisses the wind

.....I pull the bed into the sunlight
.....and cradle me in well-being

.....stretched out and opened wide
.....I glide into the world

Cradle great sadness

in music, there are no words --


that can carry it.

Creamy white, sweet pink,

a bunch of satisfaction --


our bed of roses.

Creation: spirits

blowing bodies out of flesh --


and bottling themselves.

As we work we talk
...that's how it goes

about what needs to be done
...differently according to the boss:

more with less
...the other way around would be nonsense:

creativity is our strength
...that's what it is about:

we have to show it
...it is sink or swim

whether the financiers believe in us
...We do it together

extra commitment is deciding
...only the best remain

That's it, as long as it takes
...to change everything

even if it takes longer than expected
...And beware of the gaps

work around them creatively
...or we'll fall into them

Changing one's name
after a scandal, it works
with time

Cain could do everything
he made tools
grew beans and grasses
with edible seeds and
built a house of loam

He created what he invented
but who still wants to know now?
His name has been black-washed

so the grandchildren just
had to deny him, no
their grandfather was Seth
the only real
son of Adam and Eve

who dug little canals
and made bedsteads
who created what he invented

Today is like yesterday
I turn around again
If only I could live
the way I want

You can do it
without any trouble
but about my wishes
there is a hassle
Leave me alone, stop
with these rules
and learned opinions
I don't feel like
defending myself all the time
and thinking
about other people's problems

Enough thinking has been done
I don't need to
redo it, why
should I torment myself?

Croaking frogs at night,

a horse running back and forth --


but you can't see it.

I took the girl with me to Lexington
At the bus station we ate peacefully
a snack from the vending machine

and I bought her a ticket
for the 11-hour ride to Chicago
Maybe I saved her
sixteen years old, hitchhiking

on a dark Kentucky road
going to say hello to her grandma
she said, and I still worry about her
she said, and I
still worry about her