Friday, September 30, 2011

Longing is from a different fabric
when it is torn between picture and frame
Without contingence to merge one another
One would be empty and One go insane

Thursday, September 29, 2011

A ring fell off my finger.
I thought I couldn’t live without it.
Little by little my hand starts to forget.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

In an instance three days have passed. 
I tended to leap just three hours.
The world is speeding up, or is it slowing down.
It seems time is losing its sense of me.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

On the bus I met this world traveler. 
He was prone to tell his adventures to every newcomer taking a seat close to his. 
The last couple of months he had been hopping from country to country and what drove him 
was seemingly the same reason making someone hop from bar to bar in a muggy Saturday night. 
Every moment I suspected him to draw a checklist out of his pocket.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Wood cracks near my feet
Our own pretty ways 
led me to a clearing 

Lazing between pine trees
I smile at the swing
You are the blood stream 
nurturing its string

I don't know how to say what I have to say.
Did ... you sleep okay?

Saturday, September 24, 2011

I wandered through a land where cats lived in the streets. 
They looked quite rough and weather-beaten. 
Except for one, beautiful and sublime she was. 
Thinking about it now she must have been a king.

Friday, September 23, 2011

There was this teacher and every time he lectured I whispered the words before he spoke them.
Still I attended his classes. Only in his presence I knew.
Perhaps one day I may whisper on my own.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

I was going to have breakfast
Arranged the table cloth
Smoothing out the creases
The way you used to do

I sat down right beside me
The place you sat before
Tried to speak a blessing
Had lost the holy words

I looked at all the mercies
Couldn’t eat a piece
And when I looked beside me
And saw my empty chair
I felt that I could never
Till I sat over there

Without its eruptions the volcano could call itself a hill.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Einige treiben ab und stoßen sich, manchmal stoßen sie verwundert an mich.
Abgekämpfte Schwimmer. Sie fragen mich, was machst du, ich sage, ich stehe.
Dann und wann erhebt ein Treibender sich, in gebührendem Abstand, selten direkt neben mir.
Wir stehen nicht allein im Fluss.

Casting the dice

One day we played this game and I could make the dice throw whatever I liked.
It wasn’t loaded.
My sister got upset. She was losing.
I played this trick and it was fun. Nobody believed it anyway.
My sister knew and cried. She never liked to play with me.
I always won.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Why is it that everything depends on the perspective?
And why do I always feel that mine is an intricate one? 
I so wished sometimes I could just have yours. But then again it wouldn’t be mine. 
There are no absolutes in life. I just set my face against the wind. The direction is beyond my will.
And my sight depends on how strong the wind blows into my perspective.

Friday, September 09, 2011

The inner substance of progress is silence.

Thursday, September 08, 2011

Throw yourself fetterless
get lost in deep waters
and drown.
While you sink you'll find yourself
in the embracing love of the remembering ocean.

Monday, September 05, 2011

Clear water makes us think we can see clearly. 
We tend to forget 
we are merely little drops 
in the midst of a delta’s massive influx. 
Infinity is a reflexive mirror 
veiling the misty ambiance.

Sunday, September 04, 2011

On your forehead a bird in the sky.
Eventually he settles in my spine.
To fall in place things take time.
In a rush a bird flees but does not fly.

Saturday, September 03, 2011

 Dein Blick in meiner Brust.
Sofort hat er sich eingenistet.
Mein Atem streift sein Gefieder.
Er duckt sich leicht und regt sich nicht,
weiß er doch, wie tief er sitzt.