Whatever reasons

we suggest, we will do it --


mainly for ourselves.

Whatever you say

to somebody else, you say --


to yourself as well.

I learn to see
what is important by imitating
the way you look

I feel what you feel
by imitating what you feel
Like a babbling child

my knowledge follows
my body that follows
your movements

The closer the better
my mirror imaging is
but never exactly the same

even if the water is smooth
and that is gone
as soon as I dive into it

What I meant to say

carefully, in my letter,


I have omitted.

What inheritance

do we receive as children? –


Only the future.

What is happening

is overexposed, only --


the core can be seen.

What is love now, since

you're gone and I am dying --


in how it was then?

What is new is old,

because it does remember --


what has been before.

What is old and spent

in me? What can germinate?


How shall I live on?

Okay, I did it, I had to drive
a smouldering stake in his eye
screaming he lashed out

and in the panic, he couldn't see
with his other eye either
That was it, a good story

that I liked to tell, but
apparently, it's not good enough
for the sailors of today

who have seen skulls
in the Mount Etna caves
with a large hole in the middle

One-eyed giants died there
worthy of a hero
like me, they say

but I do know
that they were elephants
one-trunked quadrupeds

What is the matter with people
that they rather believe in fantasies
than in true, hard life?

What is there to say?

Whirling in the depths, the sea –


roars with my yearning.

What is violence?

I don't do it, if I do –


I quickly forget.

Fortunately, you know
what I want to say
what I feel with you

and that you, we, together
just simply, nothing much
just simply is already special

with you, understanding each other
with a look, naturally
with a word of ours alone

that it is and remains that way, the way
we are, changing and yet
we are the way it is nice

you all know that, but
tonight I feel it so strongly
tonight I say it aloud

What I would do, I

must, and hope, want, shall, can, may --


begin to do now.

What keeps me awake

is something I want to know --


and have forgotten.

What people work on,

but also what they forget --


determines future.

The little beech tree
in the forest looks up
to its family

the high crowns of wisdom
of hundreds of seasons
of the time she can not yet count

the order of the world
the time to be young
and know little

the time to be patient
to be small and to know
you're not short of anything

may eat from the toes
of the aunts
who teach you everything

Electrically
they give signals
the microbes and the threads

of fungus tell
what's going on
with fragrances and colours

are the leaves speaking
are the blossoms singing
are they calling animals

for help in case of danger
To live is performing
miracles with each other

Am I peculiar
because I collect stamps?

Does mom look at me with pity
while cleaning?

Should I please dad
and talk with him about the politics
of the countries I collected?

What's peculiar about a large safe
to secure items of value?

Is it my job to buy the groceries
that mom forgot?

Why do people always laugh
when they hear that I am a member
of the Big Lick Stamp Club?

What we humans are

is nothing, what we desire --


is all that matters.

When dad comes home, he

brings many countries with him:


Dreams run through my blood.

When do people still

wonder? You know, there's so much --


they have seen before.

Whenever the clock

strikes you'll feel the vibration –


how much I miss you.

When he concentrates,

his legs begin to tremble –


then he says something.

When I am with you,

so close that I become you --


I sing myself out.

When I can't handle

it anymore, I am saved --


by hours of boredom.

When I dance, I am


an exhibitionist, yes --



with all my clothes on.

When I'm furious,

I react inhumanely:


neighbours are a prey.

When it is quiet,

a tone rings out clear and light --


with all of its weight.

When it's the first time,

skating, dating, comforting --


Too bad! You are stiff!

When I visit them

I look to see what has changed --


To be home again.

When my sorrow broke,

I bought a pack of old grief --


Now I'm a poet.

When terror is far

away, you can just remain --


on your pet subject.

When the prisoners

are outside, they walk circles --


inside in their heads.

When the work is done

we sleep, nowhere, timelessly --


lying in our love.

When we say goodbye,

my waving hand trembles, but --


father doesn't notice.

When will I be young?

I asked after mum’s story --


of her girlhood years.

When you embrace me

I can't do anything else –


only embrace you.

When you're not at home

I can find you by the sea --


the comforting sea.

When you share my pain

you don't know where it ends, you --


suffer limitless.

When you wrote my name

in the sand I wrote your name --


nicely over it.

It is so quiet outside, never again
will he stand in the loggia, never again
will he look at me, never again

never again will he touch me

I could not sleep, I returned
at the first light to wash and embalm him
his spirit was gone

he was no longer where he lay
and I knelt, embraced his body
and wept the cold cloths wet

His arms were strong as pillars
with bare hands
he could tear a lion to pieces

all the women loved him, they had no rest
walked down the streets and squares
always passing his house

They tossed and dreamed
of his black hair
they grabbed him and did not let go

they wanted to lie in his shadow, put his head
between their *******, eat honey from his hand
and introduce him to their mother

but he chose me, all night
we made love in the open air
in the sweet scents of pomegranates

The winter and the rains were over
shrubs and trees were blossoming
and birds sang all over the country

Where are you?
Witchfinger moss
shows you the way in the woods

I watch, I reach
my green hands
are leaking love

my head shakes seeds
into the world, friends
eat them

fairy tales will grow
from them, give them hugs
and tears, where are you?

I am the tree of your soul
that you can embrace
come with your cheek

put it against my belly, take
my belly in your lap
just come

and heal from the welts
of life, come
sing and jump

not only underground
I want to be
connected with you

Where do I end up?

Didn't I steer well or am I --


being pushed away?

I do remember
I have seen it many times
on their faces, their demand

to be a big girl
not unbridledly whining
for attention

.....Just explode, you are strong
.....the furious evidence
.....of our right

not to take care
of me, they were entitled
to their own lives

so I opened my mouth
invincible, powerful
for myself and everyone

I do not tolerate injustice
in front of me, do you hear me?
What is it with the people?

They walk blindly through the city
avoid strangers and grannies
ignore hungry pussycats

and throw away their plants, well
I have boundless energy, but
where is the army to help me?

Where is the truth? It's

so agile, never somewhere --


somewhere in between.

Where might they have gone?

Why haven't they returned home yet? –


I think anxiously.

Everyone knows the book about the king
his power, the counsellors and the grand
palace with all its inner gardens

full of wonderfully scented flowers
but I describe what I have learned
from experienced men, Horsehead

and Goldnavel, about pleasures
in the dark, behind the corners
where shadows cast secrets

of concealed doors to the corridors
through the silent basement maze
where desires are fulfilled

by round beds and soft
women who cover you with sun –
their backs wave and groan

as my nails write immortality
in their skin and their breath
hops like a hare or sighs

like a crescent moon with hairs
that rustle when they lie down
in the wake of my hand

I just let other people
work and rather feast
upon love, night and day

Wherever I stay,

the trees from home keep growing --


growing in my heart.

It takes a while
before it will be over
with room for someone else
For now it is too empty

where you have always been
People soon forget that
when we have a chat
and laugh at something small

Your mother is great
She does what she can do
so without a man
You know the drill

the neighbour mows the lawn
He's really old
time and again he asks
where you have gone

But if I had known it beforehand
I would just as well have been in love
just as well be that woman
still in love with you

While I am musing

the sun hesitates to rise --


and it's getting dark.