Among the bright stars

our happiness shines for life:


a future of love.

Amorousness runs

dry and all your happiness --


slips through your fingers.

A mosquito spins

around my face, the wings buzz –


I feel a slight breeze.

The level is rising around
the islands of silt
in the swamp, the fishermen
see their world widening
Old streambeds are also filling up
The wetlands become accessible
by rivers from the mainland

It is a ******* void
a gate to the sea, a chance
for the peat farmers and the forest people
to start trading, to build
dikes, quays, a city
with a dam
in the middle

People are flowing over
from the prosperous villages
to the impoldered land
with the new port –
not an old core that hungrily
conquers the surrounding lands
but their colony

An angular dance:

a box jumping on the road –


cartwheeling forward.

An automated

answer produces a queue --


Length invisible.

An automated

payment guards you from a debt --


except to the bank.

An automated

translation leads you further --


till you are astray.

An automatic

contract extension is ease --


instead of reason.

An automatic

door for everything that moves --


is closed still open.

An automatic

gun does not fire by itself --


There is time to think.

An automatic

pilot does not make mistakes --


fatal ones at most.

An automatic

wristwatch gets little pushes --


from its wearer-slave.

A girl passed by, the sound I heard
was fast and flashy like a bird's
A shining flower in her hair
a new song dancing in the air

Perhaps her very heart could twine
on me and then unite with mine
And coming in my depths of night
her glance would put me in the light!

But too outdated is my head...
Farewell, sweet ray that shines on me
your perfume, youth, the harmony...
This happiness had to pass. It fled!

Ancient chemistry:

his pipette squirts elixir –


into her retort.

And as it happened,

I found the clue to friendship:


don't be out for it.

And I have pictures

with god on them, running off –


half behind a tree.

And now? Again this

'Now', that mat under our feet --


keeps slipping away.

Goodbye sister, you are the prettiest
no one will ever be more beautiful
you hold up
and leave us the tears

Goodbye brother, I haven't been a high priest
since father abolished the gods
and now that he has been murdered
heaven is resting

completely on you, as he wanted
you'll be the king of the River
you'll make the Sun shine, like I
will make it shine on the coast

to where I will bring back the people
of our mother, the mother of Egypt
and Israel, she will stay
to help you, she is strong, the wisest

of us all, we children
of the Light that shines all over
the earth, and the darkness
has not understood

Halfway I chatter chatter
teasingly to make you small
and then

I lick you big again, I smear
the pleasure, mixed
with the evening light

the blades on the ceiling
the long curtains, the yellow
of the walls and the two thick

armchairs of green-brown earth
A warm sigh floats over
our sweat of satisfaction

and then, once more
in me, your name, my name
whispering rhythmically

confused, my hair jumbled up
scents in our blood, and then
you can, then I am

In my heart, 'mi corazón'
the musicians ****
with love songs full of sunshine
my sadness, 'muere la desazón'

With closed eyes are we dancing
in marble luxury
under an ornate ceiling
busts looking down on us

Someone takes my hand
and makes me spin around
my soul sails up
and shakes off its tears

stretching out its arms
like a sun-peacock
My belly shines, big
is my heart, 'mi corazón'

I don't need a mirror
so beautiful I feel in place
tonight in the concert hall

The unspoken expectation
of the buzz to where
we will be taken

and what else may happen –

the wide neck slides down my
hand lingers there and waits
before stroking my shoulder

in between the heads a fortuitous look
gets stuck on me, his attention
comes under the influence

of my arranging hair
and impatiently shifting position
while the show goes on

An egg in the tree

axil, a feather comes out --


then: a singing bird.

An elevator

full of weal and woe, up and --


down in my sick head.

A new appointment,

and today my first grey hair:


what many changes!

A new issue can

adjust in a new pattern –


as Euréjà vu!

I can't celebrate today

Have You Yourself laid Your hands
on the king and burdened him
with our sins?

Delivered up to soldiers
he is sacrificed to whom else
but Yourself, so he must be alive

even though he lies in a tomb

May he be the first to reside
in a whole new world
still empty like the desert
where the scapegoat is free?

May now already be the Day

of Mercies, a new mystery
a new faith, according to laws
that are secret to me

but still are somehow implied
in our unsuccessful endeavour
in Your Name, Your holy Name

which I am unworthy to pronounce?

A New Year's forecast:

being a fish in water –


in touch with the All!

I have two full boxes of mail
and a drawer with old stuff
an autumn leaf from 1989
the wings mama put on me
to see what I had to be

and a few scraps of her voice
from the stealthily moments
when I held my breath
to hear the secrets
she discussed downstairs

Again, I smell what I wished for
her love all day long
and she being happy accordingly
but I should have been an angel
to accomplish it

Only these items have remained
moved over and over with me
to a new version of myself
Sometimes I sniff it, read answers
from then and find questions for now

High above the horses' corral, the sun
Cutting in the deserted streets
Shutters closed
No fighters and no smugglers
no silver diggers, no luck

Only angry eyes that have seen her
Men go around with clubs
they comb out all the houses
That angel has to leave

I pull her inside, next to my pounding heart
she kisses me until it is over, the dog is alert
and licks her hand, mama is working
dad drinks all day

We wait for the night
I will go with her
away from here, this is not my home
it is a grave, a hollow stone
on which my name never will be written

Angels are not sweet,

they are hard when they tell you –


what you have to do.

We didn't need anything
we just bumped against each other
and lay together, if so, a nest
of friends, who know to find each other
no matter how far we've flown out

Become angels, who would have thought!

Our soul connection
so familiar at first sight
at each reunion - forever young
is my chicken heart then, my skin
of flesh and blood, forever young

our spirit - but oddly
detached are our wings
our cheeks and the air kisses
that escape my lips
or have transcended them

Angels come flying

in, hear, here must be heaven --


where the ***** sounds.

You cannot sleep?
It will come
It's the clock genes

Just come over here
and lie down with me
Close to each other
You are so sweet

It tied knots in me
that are not quite undone yet
I was a saviour, an angel

not yet used
to her body, a child
who does know heaven
but not yet earth

It recurred
Anger grew inside me
Powerless aversion

It recurred
And with others
I lost my wings
A worthless angel

A nice canoe trip,

downstream, without worrying --


about getting lost.

A night of *******

on sleeping bodies, and then --


the leeches explode.

Animals take me

into the night with the wind --


Call in the distance.

An imperfection

is a shadow in your life --


with thanks to the sun.

An insight dropped down

before my feet, around it –


I'm pussyfooting.

An island, nothing

is said, here, time is strolling –


away from the trails.

Another new birth,

another programmed clotting --


of exploded cells.

How many quarrels unthinkable
relationships much happier
and laws superfluous, if
vices did not exist?

No avarice on the throne
in our heads, made up
with pride and pretense
no greedy dissatisfaction
and hedonism in our bellies
no more anxious blood
pumped through our hearts

if everyone answers honestly
to themselves: what do you want
to do if money is not an issue
and you don't have to be afraid?

Do you think this question is too
ambitious or not asked often enough?

Any memory

you repeat turns easily --


into a desire.

Any overworld

is a palimpsest over --


a scraped underworld.

Talking to men
who I don't know
singing along with the music

on which I dance in the eyes
that follow me
like shadows

wishing to be desired
without being in danger
dressed for it, that too

is who I am, free
to the extent it is permitted
by the hell

of other people's eyes
that love my body
and hate me for it

but that's not me
I am anything
but what they think

Anyway we live

in common on our commons:


our planet, the earth.

A page, a glimmer

of truth, rustlingless silent --


and then wind again.

.....I here, you there
.....Apart together
.....Our love a bed
.....full of missing

On my way home
weak from desire
for all days
with our family

.....I here, you there
.....Apart together
.....Our love a bed
.....full of missing

Wild, wild horses
cannot separate us
Wild, wild horses
we will ride

.....I here, you there
.....Apart together
.....Our love a bed
.....full of missing

A passer-by asks:

Where from? Where to? I walk on --


with him, in silence.

A peach blossom branch:

then it's nice to have a chat –


with a nobleman.