Asking for my stick,

and for my glasses, that's it –


my life without you.

A sledgehammer kills,

or it may loosen a thought,


something from the past.

A sleepy village,

the doors and shutters are closed --


Dogs barking loudly.

Look, do you see it's me?
Don't mind the poppies
don't mind my skin, my head

without hair, okay, you may
see the earrings, they're winking
to the desirable gold

that you only know *******
tight above unadorned ears
It was only loose at home

I tried lipstick
and became invincible
a robot woman full of energy

The pain does not count, I'm alive
experience after experience
a different person

The pain does count, I like
to live, take all
chances, give

anything for it
as long as it goes, as long
as I can, as long

as my energy flows love

As long as we live,

we're living in the future --


when making choices.

A small hatch opens

in the fog, there's a small hand --


waving a little.

A sorcerer doesn't

need a wand or other stuff --


Words are sufficient.

As playfully as

ever, he does his duty:


naughty boy Grandpa.

It is peaceful here
       but this peace is suspicious
      
       warns the king
       Many inhabitants move
      
       to a palace in the clouds
       of Internet-land or they retreat
      
       to a high tower, sender and receiver
       of their own right, just listen
      
       to the echoes, just listen
       to my disgusting words
      
       Yes, if only someone did listen
       If only someone did listen
      
       unsure
       and loving
      
       back on earth

As serfs of ourselves

we all do long to live free --


for one another.

A steel thinking-frame

may be the toughest of all –


but it rarely fits.

A steel thinking-frame

may be the toughest of all –


but it rarely fits.

The giant that stopped me
was a wall on the bank
of the big river, far
beyond the palaces

where servants like angels
provided a heaven on earth
for princes and princesses and always

there were naked sages before the gate
begging to warn the people
that they shouldn't have any illusions

There was a small hatch in the wall
which opened for an old hand a moment
giving me an ordinary pebble

It was a stone from paradise
on the other side of the wall
It was smooth. What to do with it?

I am just such a stone, polished
by life and in the future
falling to dust, pity us

stones from paradise
on this side of the wall
where the kings suffer in seclusion
from boredom and the trouble
to keep it that way

A stone on a stone

on a stone, that's how I climb --


higher and higher.

A storm is rising,

my peace is disturbed, I have --


to get on with life.

A stranger falls, and

as he falls he is breaking --


in into my life.

A stranger passed by,

we had to watch him: he went –


where we dare not go.

A streak of perfume

across the floor, I am scared --


by the intense smell.

A sultry evening,

with red veil ribbons, the sea –


wild, dancing naked.

A summer lover:

the night is over sooner –


than we go to sleep.

He is late, as usual
It's his car, he decides
when we go home
At least, if he does come

And after the party he will say: 'Come
it was a nice evening, wasn't it?'
but if he absolutely needs to
I'll let him, I'll let him

come until he screams
for mercy - nobody can hear it
The wind will blow, the grass will wave
and I will turn around to sleep

I love him, I know why
and he should be able to do better
I am worth it, and he too
If I only could teach him

As warm spring water

your hand flows over my skin –


I become liquid.

As we know, people

like to play, preferably --


with favourite thoughts.

A swelling clamour,

I hear it with my dream-ears --


they're never asleep.

A tangled patchwork,

bits of all kinds of people --


that's how Mumbai was.

At dawn, a sea breeze,

in the evening, a land breeze –


in between: my day.

At dinner, in bed,

and on holiday, always --


Planning & Control.

The wash turns and hums
It sounds content
No birds, quiet
as in a dream

You got up early, I know
how you unfold a shirt
pull it over and enjoy
the cool fabric

...I don't feel like
...getting dressed yet, wait
...at the kitchen counter

...until the tea is brewed
...then I fold your clothes
...very precisely and lay them
...in the closet. What shall I

...cook for you tonight
...and what shall I wear?
...First something warm
...to do the grocery shopping

At home, I am safe,

bút… No, no But, Buts are No's –


At home, I am safe!

A thought is super-

ficial, not so is an act,


an experience.

At last there's a flag,

flapping next to a café --


like a crackling fire.

At most I myself

catch what I mean, with you it's --


misunderstandings.

At night a man sings

in the Medina, someone --


answers, and a third.

At night I enchant

you with a kiss, then we'll both --


sing for happiness.

At night I enchant

you with a kiss, then we'll both --


sing for happiness.

At night, the houses

with their windows are yawning --


at me everywhere.

At parties he crawled

through the livestock like a child --


sheep among the sheep.

At parties I try

to leave soon, always longing --


for festivity!

A trail in the snow:

the fresh footprints of a fox --


along red spatters.

A trap? Then I'll step

into it, wondering what --


will happen to me.

A travel story

without an experience


is just air – bad breath.

A tree uprooted,

mud, a crack in the rock-ledge –


and clear spring water!

At regular times

a message comes, stating: this --


connection exists.

At school I learned all

sorts of things, especially --


the art of boredom.

I didn't learn
to live, I just
got used to it

and try to be myself
with friends who don't make demands
and are available

when I come or shout
that I'm lonely
but with you it's different

Sometimes I don't know afterwards
whether we were connected
and then I get lost

in my thoughts, so
there is no contact
and I must embrace you

feel the firmness
of your body
to believe in us

From now on, I am Mama
just as Mama always
will be my Mama

and as many women are
suddenly letting on that they are
But not of my child

And not with my discomforts
which they can't alleviate
with their wise prospects

I listen to my child
He teaches me baby talk
and what it means

to be Mama from now on
never just myself again
always with attention

for him, motherly love
is, throughout life, so much more
than worry and care

Attention is nice

even from a distance, but --


I miss our embrace.

At the airport, I

follow the people who know --


where they are going.

At the bench, just before
we get there, he reaches
for the ground

and sits down
but he doesn't seem to know how
he doesn't seem to be well, I wait

A municipal man comes
to see and he calls for help, sirens
My companion is carefully laid down

A woman presses her arms
around me and holds me
caressing me

Others are watching
tirelessly his chest rises
after every push, another push

I'm still not allowed
to go to him, I'm waiting
it can't be right

that he stays down
that he is not on the bench
that he doesn't talk to me

At the break of dawn

the wind drops, the rowers rise --


for a sea shanty.