After today's four steps
I'm sitting in socks by the fireplace
My heavy boots are standing straight
and my back is still rattling

I am a henchman
I push the boundaries
of the ladies in love
and the rich gentlemen

I leave horse **** behind
and take the scent of freesias with me
The water in the bucket sloshes
like yearning love

I don't travel alone
We are armed
The papers are precious
Sealed letters

Beginning and maintaining
of relationships and major interests
Between the stops, the reins
of fate are in my hands

There is a boulder

in the middle of the road --


there is a boulder.

There is a chance to

establish untruths, but truth --


is unprovable.

There is a corpse, so

I quickly turn to Mum, but –


she looks far away.

There is a drum roll

behind the quiet houses –


everyone is there.

There is a pond in

the forest lake: beautiful --


black ice around it.

There is a shot hole

in the photo on the hearts --


of fallen soldiers.

There is a strange smell

in the city, of olives --


so it's not a dream.

There is evidence

of what I had and did: signs --


of my existence.

There is happiness

running through my little hands --


my hands on the Earth.

There is life breathing

in the darkness, I hear it --


blowing up my fear.

There is no beauty

with the dishes, not even --


a dream of real life.

There is no escape:

the whole world is entangled --


in the snares of love.

There is no message

in the bottle on the beach --


So, what shall I write?

There is no problem,

I don't have to lie awake --


from lying awake.

There is no service,

the terrace serves us itself --


As a meeting place.

There is no shortage

of oxygen, the longing –


that we are breathing.


-----------------------------------


There is no shortage

of longings, the oxygen –


that we are breathing.

There is no wisdom

in the East, no, everywhere --


people are foolish.

There is something, It

is earthly, I sense it, shreds --


of a mystery.

There is so much good

to be done, I think, at times –


I do think, at times…

There is your laundry,

which I will clean, but for whom?


Will someone wear it?

There's a little cloud

above me, so I get pills –


but it lands on me.

There's a lot of sun

in the salt on my skin, please --


taste where I come from.

There's always comfort,

whatever sorrow you have:


there's mashed potatoes!

There's always something,

something that is in my way --


even if it's me.

There's a museum

called Ministry of the Sea --


No coast anymore.

There's a mystery

in him that I like to know --


don't, do, like to know.

There's a smell of food

in the hallways, it's Monday --


meat wrapped sausage day.

There's a strange hand with

pointing fingers on my thigh --


and it excites me.

There's a thunderstorm,

lightning above me, rumbling --


deep beneath my feet.

There's enough spring green

for one hundred thousand eyes --


I only have two.

There's little time for

love and affection, people --


have to work and die.

There's no beginning

nor end, I live nowhere in --


the middle of time.

There's no other way.

I must be white when he's black --


be black when he's white.

There's nothing to say

about God's infinite love –


it is a blessing.

There's so much to do,

without knowing if my life --


is worth what it costs.

There's the nagging pain

of violence, and worse, of --


chatting about it.

There the waxing Earth

is low in the sky, lying --


in its starry crib.

The riches we have

are limited, we want more --


attention, on call.

The rich, exhausted

from all the deprivations --


of their agenda.

The rich people feed

each other, so the hungry --


have to do the same.

The rich people share,

they concede when they commit --


their benefactions.

The river bulges

up to the edge, I'm afraid --


must see it myself.

The road has lost us,

we have left it, over there --


it's looking for us.

The road makes a loop,

men with bikes are peering how --


everything comes back.

The roads are rounds, watch

out and avoid them if you --


look for a way out.

The rock bank hangs down

from my feet into the air --


under the water.

The rompy tomboy:

a belly with arms and legs –


dancing in the grass.

The row of medals

divert people's attention --


from his worn-out suit.

The rustling bamboo

encloses me, I look up –


and follow the birds.