Until you are small

and disappear, I watch you –


waving “come back soon”.

I'm just hanging
What would I struggle?
All to myself
the *** of tea, the table

the rooms of our house
with its new windows
the scratches in the cabinet
all the presents

that I gave to you
and the poster of the glistening
water on the horizon
with the shadow of a ship

I'm just hanging
around in your absence
unable to take action, so strong
and close I do feel your presence

Untranslatable

are all these things you can feel!


so go outside now!

Up above the trees:

roofs, then towers and mountains –


ice giants, the moon!

Upon mulberry

blossoms, Santa is sweating --


the worldly away.

Upon street boxes:

tears of time, shreds of something --


to be seen somewhere.

Upon your death, friends

unanimously agree --


on your character.

Get started! With a small box
some leaves and some ants, and practice

lightning, flying storm and heavenly hand
until you can do it, then take a larger box
with more stuff and many more ants

Of course, they don't run together
sufficiently, so you shake the box
and occasionally you raise your higher hand

Then you can also do it with two boxes
and having mastered that, you throw them
together and you appoint petty bosses

If a box fails, set it on fire
open a new one
and give the boss another chance

yes, it's so easy
to be the upper boss

Urban renewal,

but the footway is the same --


as when I played there.

I am rich, I can choose:
send a storm that throws them away
as the waste they are

I can give everyone all the gory
details, how bad they stink
under their oh so fancy clothes

I can withdraw, entrench myself
and not give them the least
because they deserve nothing at all

for their actions, day and night
I can let grey rains drench
the whole world in sadness

drop everything out of my hands
and **** grab my things
or on the contrary a bag

with comfort and care to help
them mercifully, I can repent
take a step back and make it right

because who am I in the end
to think I know better, anyway
urgently, I want to do something

and I can choose, I choose
to be wise, because no
I'm not insane

Usually it goes,

sometimes I'm happy, right then --


I take a photo.

Vapours of cabbage

are drawing throughout the house –


with cooking noises.

Oh Venus, you most beautiful
why didn't you dare
to lie politely –
what everyone would see-through?

Had let Mother win
who after all lives in the heart –
mothers deserve love
and honour more than anyone

Had let Reason win
waking in the head, or sleeping –
it definitely is the highest
possession a person owns

You, who keep bellies awake
with desires and satisfies them
with insatiable pleasure –
were you afraid to be forgotten?

You have nothing to lose and yet
you bribed the prince with promises
and you warn people
to avoid beauty

to hide it under clothes
and behind closed doors
where time creeps in their skin
weakening their flesh and eating it

Vernal cathedral:

wide open are the doorways --


of the tall beech lane.

Very puzzling is

the miscellaneous news:


Hów did it happen?

Vessels of Deep Thoughts

run aground on a Sand Bank –


Simplicity sails.

It will not have been a long time
that my parents sent someone with me
when I went to see the trains
after school and at the weekend

Far too often, they thought, but
I liked to be there, on the bridge
at the station, especially in this town
you could see old models pass

I know them blind, by their sound
the vibration of the viaduct
their smell if it doesn't blow too much
and the Doppler effect

It is mainly freight transport
yet the town is connected
to the big world
and still there are children

on their toes
to look over the wall
and I never saw a daredevil
scrambling on top of it

Via Via I do approximately know who I am
someone among all the people

who keep the city alive
and show me my soul
We feed each other, therefore eat
each other as one body
mankind, hungering to live
approximately knowing who we are
among each other and the rest
on our long way
up, down
and around

The goals I had, lost
and not missed, lost
in ubuntu

Vibrating around

the bow- and harp-strings: the souls --


of the listeners.

Village in the mist,

I know where it is, listen:


dogs and a rooster.

Rainy days mud
my garden, the golden root is rotting

my wishing well spills over
I am spent

flaccid roads to the city
get me nowhere, no one wants

to pay for that, the world stands still
my little son is sleepwalking around me

by touch, cow and calf look
at me and frown, sighing

vapours muffled by the fine droplets
of rainy tears on the globes of my eyes

the sachets of water in which the world
always is upside down

a violet hangs and thinks:

mud will become waterproof
slate, eventually

Visitors are briefed

of how they should say thank you --


for the reception.

Visitors give me,

as a sick person, knowledge --


of human nature.

Vividly coloured

straw flowers in the snowfield --


but they do not smell.

A musician, the handsome dream
of a year ago, still in my head
lying beside me after an easy lay

in the smell of his breath
and the noose of his hand
around my neck

My love snores with tears
in his eyes, and *****
in his heart

I get up and go
leave this hell of mine
wishing he would be a tiger

knowing I am a panther
and if I had any stripes
I would wear them with pride

Voices around me,

which I cannot understand,


coffee: the meeting.

Vowels fall away:

in my ears the reveries --


come in faltering.

Through the shadowy grey
of who what when
the mornings are fuzzy

green of visitors that will dance
and laugh, tell stories
with many gestures

and always find a reason
to touch me and embrace
me intimately

It's all, but not enough
I don't want to crawl
away in my hole yet

Could I only hide
like the sun
and appear again

with wagtails in the garden
and playing children
outside

Wait for a new age,

when there will appear new priests --


to reinvent God.

Lost in the women's section
harmless smiling clumsy
I saw, wanted you

I let you cook for me
and wait after dinner
for a next time, love

is waiting and waiting
is being alive, you were confused
you wanted me

to pamper me, to cook for me
and you had fantasies, patiently
waiting, about a night

with me, love
that will last a lifetime
an adventure of differences

that make our hearts falter
with misunderstandings, but then
they relax again

Waiting for good luck:

long trains crowded with chances –


rushing, rushing past.

Waiting for later

I realised: this is it –


this is all there is.

Waiting for my love,

luckily no one does know –


he is the sweetest.

Waiting is living

half, putting deeds off, looking --


in front of oneself.

Waiving happiness

and suffering for the truth:


a better country.

Live! Not dying
like all the sad-eyed people
but like the dog
that dances in the window

Wake up and look
There's sun, there's stars
there's daisies
and it swirls
in your ***

Wake up to a poem
Your blood flows
Spring comes and
there's bread in the oven

I'm not saying anything new
My words are clear
as water, as your soul
The sea falls and rises
but man is cruel

Wake up, don't marry

him if you are not yearning --


for him in sweet dreams.

Waking up, lightly

balancing between repose --


and my brand new day.

Walking in silence,

listening attentively --


to what the world says.

Walking on a leash,

I do have enough leeway --


to hop happily.

Walking the city,

with a thought to the shelters –


where life is teeming.

Walking through the fields

without luggage makes it all --


the more beautiful.

Walk into the night

at parties, just a moment --


to see the pleasure.

Walls can both protect

and confine you, lock you in --


until they collapse.

Do I want him

to dive into my bed sometimes
sometimes not, like an angel --
his wings ready to go?

exactly as I wish
exactly like a man
an experienced lover

who doesn't have to breathe
because he is an angel --
he doesn't smell odours

Perhaps it works
with my new wand
to make a hatch

or folding doors in the sky
something that I can open myself
as a sign: Come! Go!

Or do I want him to stay
and be with me, sometimes as a friend
sometimes as a lover, sometimes as an angel?

Wander herb, full moon:

we are homesick in autumn –


in many places.

Wandering at home:

a play without direction –


without a prompter.

War: I run away,

then it steals the sounds I have --


not taken with me.

Peace, in a bed
in Amsterdam, kneeling
or with clenched fists

eternally awaited, preserved
in hearts and thoughts
about people who behave
differently than you wish
people who have to take care

of their well-being and can
only dream their visions
cannot realise these even
with combined efforts
The world is too big for that

Close by you can smell the wind
and go along with the seasons
Close by you can, within
the limits of your needs
safely open up to another

An exploded world
inside out
unfaltering

the water swallowed up
and the crust an asphalt sea
a dead sea, wasteland

where no cattle can graze
and everyone starves
is a horror dream

of one and a half hours
in the cinema hall
Outside we rely

on nuclear bombs and smart solutions
for a humane environment
because there is no growth

in placenta earth