Life has been cleft into
our life before and my life after
his death.

She had looked forward to
this life with him
sharing a house and some
kids and meals
dancing in the living room
(although with some diffidence
sometimes).
She ended up looking back
to a life without
anything like that
but travels and lucky stars
and the wind taking care of the laundry.

I think I stay inside
for now I'm happy
to know that
Outside the lights
shine bright and that
life's are being lived

The moment the road turns
and you see the ocean.
That's it.

The long driveway up to
the farm has these big trees
bending across | filtering the sunlight
into diffused thick green intensity
only mildly shining through
the hugging branches

it is like diving underneath the
surface of a pond covered by
duckweed | mystery glows in rays

i have stopped to try
and interpret
my episodes that
propel me

My mate broke off our friendship
via sms, I kid you not.
I thought only children behaved
like that.

I rather draft random thoughts
than a series of consecutive imagery
that will drive me to a meaning, a reason,
the cause for doing what I'm doing
and not doing what I really should be.

The veins in her legs
more x more apparent
the lines in her face
more x more profound
Eyes still sparkling
Power of age

When my head fails me,
I always have my feet.

For all the sweetness I
give and the caring I do can
you just for once
let me be mean x ugly?

There's just this much
room in your head
to lament
other one's sorrow
she thought.

Never serious arguments
Never big lovely gestures either
We just don't do those,
do we?
We just say "I know"
and not "I love love love you",
do we?
She wonders sometimes
if this reflects their connection or their
Calvinism or their sense to
silently compete whether there
is this connection or
whether together reflects actually
a distance inevitable or natural
To survive together
Don't get her wrong, they
love love love each other
on every occasionally

It is because of the non-fighting
anymore that somehow
they think
you deserve this.

I'd like to be the sort of person
people send a postcard to

It was ever so nice meeting you
We must do this again
sometime

As we passed each other
Windy night, dark outside
Looking but no -
Things go like this
Anyway
You turned around and said:
Why follow how things go
So we ended up beyond looking
A film! That didn't end
particularly well in the end
It is all about intentions
And my intention on that particular corner
of that particular night was that
I decided to stop thinking
about you as my heart and home
So I followed this destraction
came right on time
But every shelf life expires
Anyway
Thank you for being the best rebound boy
ever, forever and never

When we are on the phone
I look at myself in the mirror
cannot help but
feel turned on by
this girl reflection
the one you bring out
the one I want to be
pretty slim witty
with wrinkles when smiles
with good ******* and tight waist
my best dress saved for this
day and date
nonexistent not arranged yet
not tempted either anyway.

I only need one reason
That you're good to me
Since I cannot do that to myself
Although I embrace when nights come

Don't need songs that tell me
I need to take it easy
or that without us no cry
Please touch my uneasiness with the day
my melancholy and
my urge to jump
A room on fire or that
you belong to me
will suffice.

I have never seen someone so patient
and biding to
hurt another person so badly
tracking down and retaliate
on the street in a meeting
anywhere to get back
anywhere to ridicule and belittle
you even told me once about your colleague
with such joy - assurance even
that I could not believe and
stopped to utter that you'd never change,
wouldn't you.
And even your little smile was full of pride.
And even the getting what he deserves
you believed.

Nostalgia my biggest weakness
Melancholy my biggest strength

no time to take of his coat
to put away his briefcase or hat
she just sat there at the kitchen table and
looked with the saddest eyes
he unbottoned
got his gin
she threw her ring on the kitchen floor
looked at the plates and the stove
she hadn't cleaned
and all the years
fell down

Instead of bread the chocolate
comfort from dark matter
indoor picnics too when rain
Something she deserves
for being left alone
for building on alone
To hide at home when
Desire leaves and food comes in.

No need to look back
when one with the world
but I cannot help
but I do understand
makes sense withal
trapped in my past by
half a moon and you
caught by a song  
and dad in the car
Californian times and cigarettes
happy childhood and lucky men
compare, compare,
consistency of thinkways
my conscience clear
all the same

Indeed there are solutions
though temporary
and superficial
to the dark wave
the deep soul
kickshaw on dark matters
heaviness where light would be
more appropriate
Triggers, head down, keep
moving though
The trees actually
were never silent
and deepdown she is waiting
something to happen
someone who sees
A solitude her life grey skies
blue sunsets the horizon
shall always be out of reach

When I was young I used to
harbour the sky looking for
the clouds with promises
drifting out like my heart
and legs wanted to
like my head and feet
started to do

and the sky turned blue

Laterness on a swing bridge
near our new house looking up
the clouds have stranded
rocks in the sky
stuck against my heart
and legs while my head
starts to hold

in a different direction

Sitting next to him
feet on the dashboard
watching him concentrate
While she goes along to Stevie's
rooms on fire 
He doesn't like the lyrics
or her singing
Remember the hammock
that was Fleetwood Mac but
still he yelled at her
He did that more often
than she wished for
How many times can you forgive
and think it was his father
crawling in or the family situation
in the car to Paris already shouting
While she grew up in a car 
full of happiness off to Spain
further down far more smiles

so extremely tired
dressing up exhausts me
******* for bed again
the effort of cooking too much
but I never liked food for one anyway
cannot bring myself to do anything
else than drink and watch shows
in abundance
like i like it
like we used to

The good thing about not
keeping track of the days
anymore is that I don't feel
obliged to dance on a Friday
lonely on a Sunday
and that I can do my
laundry anytime I want to.

i'm in raptures
a sort of an unexpected mini holiday
you've called in sick
and we're cruising the city
early drinks late lunch
looking at the river the high-rises people
tucked away
in offices and raincoats
we're high and dry and unreachable
together

Maybe it is not my
insecurity
as it is
just plain intolerance.

One day less
Better late than never
Deadly ill all stressed out
but work distracts
keeps on track
apparently
Work work work
When in Buenos Aires and Madrid
the real questions were:
are you married?
how many kids?
Here it is:
what's your job about?
Taking distance
Taking care of cats dogs now
With my two titles my mum
adds bitterly funny
Friends don't follow no work
keeps you out of loops
apparently.

After the rain
the birdsong started
All said and done
The head clear
The mind made up

Wear this say that
No not that
Ow just smile
And I do
Because I want
to be 
liked.

She just cannot start something
and then continue
and / or finish it
A compulsion to look for newer
better faster more-r louder
All reflexes properly apple-pie
A good mood goes a long way
An allergy to keeping
All and ego interfering
desires versus capacities
very disappointing all in all
Others thought she was intelligent
The image others shape, right?
She found it in fact a short sense
of willing ambition drive...
So she started to exist for the others
and played along the intelligent line
wondering whether to feel shame / guilt
and then deciding on neither
on nothing
The trees were indeed never silent
Her energy was indeed an actual gift

To see the rainbow
At the end of the street
It is just a room you know
But near you
We can go for a walk
Change perspective
Hold the world
And each other maybe

Those tough little mind games,
hunny...don't.
Those smooth empty promises,
please...don't.
Those arms around me,
please...do.
And these kisses too.

Nothing else needed.
You're fine as I am.

It makes you wonder
Me at least
why people nag all the time
while the ocean rolls away
beside you and your
cool drink
I'm not an angel here
I don't get me wrong and still do
but still
picture it and float away

A cool evening nightfall at 4pm

Little wind, willowy clouds 
slightly moving
waiting at the window

***** dishes, mugs everywhere
unpaid bills, pressing schedules
burdens concerns

Trapped in the house 
waiting for moments of moon
by the waterfront the docks

Tears like rain from the endless sky
Cracking a crown
An endless tide of constancy

My uncle used to joke
about what I'd like for tea
fried or roasted mosquito's hearts
That and the Dali poster
The horses with the long legs
The frights of a little one
A sweet girl.

He wanted to build his dream
with her and she did too
His ideas her endeavour
His voice her wishes
And in the moment of warmth
and companionship and love
Her face towards his light
Her body in his arms
His world at her feet
She only knew she was going to
crush pulverise destroy
violently and very effortlessly.

My hair tends to
be a bit bipolar
In the city where it just
croaks and uncurls
bit fluffy sometimes
But not the wavely curls
the undulating motion
when at the seaside
where I belong too.

Through the kitchen window to where the
lake ends and the trees touch her
lustrous sides, a rippleless motion
in the reeds waving at all the colours -
at me -
and the pines' crowns simply
add a powdery green to where
the water starts a black-blue dark
leaving such velvety shine -
to me.

Fifty and
so much
My dad
The Mac
Hyde Park
Oz and Cali
UK and Spain
Upstate downtown
There you go
There you are

I didn't go. And then a few months
later I did
Left a mark or maybe rather a cloud
because I took my books and left you
the table | the cookware | the roof
Disquiet became quiet
Not at first, at first I was all over the city
later it did
A becalmedness in a scene where the wind
still blows | where a snake still in my head
but it seems better to think
about things rather maybe
When in a total remoteness
With a window to the world

To be able to travel
to stay curious
and not escape
life
but for
life
curiousness
and not escape
me.

I hold my breath
(cannot even get to ten)
Glue myself back together
(ten-second untraceable)

Watching music day out

Feeling the words
(ten tabs open @my Apple)
Echoes of encounters
I happen on the train
(the ten fortyfive)

To travel is to come alive

I am not thinking
I am not back home
(ten times no)

and there we were
the most precious place
crystalline blue waves
just so uplifting that you

quite closed out
all clothes off
dove in 

a low move
a mean road
to me

incompatible egos
sedulously obtained
at least you perfectly
go figure

about time
love means you
as a stranger

so I ended up
saying wait and see
to myself not you

Intuition going anticlockwise
quiet into warped existence
until well turned blue
to me

While you're drifting
off like the weather
with the weather
It is good to know
How the wind and rain sweep
you off your feet
romantically and rancorously
How life's intent to sweep
your rain and shine
regardlessly