Sunday, October 30, 2011

Two drops of rain

I raised my face, two drops of rain
fell onto my head and softened my hair.
What had I come for? Why was I here?
Couldn’t remember, just one thing I knew:
disrobing my coat was what I had to do.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Aurora burnt a poem

This morning
aurora burnt a poem
into my window sill.
It spoke about home,
I listened half asleep.
My heart stood quiet, still.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

In all these subtle more intimate depths

Isn’t it
when ancient walls breathe 
unseeingly
a tree’s branch scratches a window pane’s glass
a bow resonates a violin’s well
a bird sings about his beloved one’s death
we might be out
shopping
picking up parcels
and overhear what barely exists
in all these subtle more intimate depths?

Mad hearts

if I ever
had wings, they would dive
in deep waters of turmoil
with only one stroke
they would stir up
mad hearts
beating 
tsunami frictions
of walls never grouted
and unsink lost castles
no sea could undrown

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Where sand turns to thorns

Heavy boots
Tie us to ground
Our wings want to fly
Can we walk along shores
Where sand turns to thorns
Scratching bare feet to blood
Till we raise and glide 
Into unfathomed sky
Can we?

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The scent of warm hands

You've been missing for a decade now
I am thankful we shared two
The scent of warm hands
Around mine so small and cold
The leaves we raked when harvesting your gardens
The moon we guessed in stormy thundered nights
The silence in me when you hold me close
The smile in your eyes when I got into sight
One day you lost your memory
The other day your mind
Got confused and blind
And scared by its brutality
The next you lost your life
And all your warmth dissolved
In tears of my anxiety
Still carry them for you
Remembering we shared
Should we have been closer
Are we closer now

Monday, October 24, 2011

In the eyes of the deer

That night
The cup was the last cup
In a shelf of ebony
A deer on the rim
Someone put it there
I never wondered why
I poured in some water
Slowly to not wet its fur
I led the cup to my mouth
With my lips touching fine porcelain
As if they were kissing winter
The water turned to snow and I 
Melted in the eyes of the deer

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The stars in decrescendo

12th October
Burning leaves are falling
Into worn out lands
Forsaken crowns and crosses
The stars in decrescendo
A mad man picks a stone
And throws it at the moon

I’m thinking about Persia
She lashes ancient poems
I’m thinking about Europa
She hustles off a cliff
What about America
She tortures obese bodies
I’m thinking about India
She chokes from corrupt breath
I’m thinking about Africa
Her children carry weapons
I’m thinking about Asia
Her children have no names
I turn towards South America
She burns down fairy lands
And island ark Australia
Turns rivers into sands

Once upon a time
There was a nameless child
Crossing many lands
In a woolen robe
One night it picked a stone
Aiming for the moon
It hit an old tree’s crown
And golden leaves were falling
Into small warm hands

Once upon a time
There was a nameless boy
Crossing many lands
On a silk paved road
One night he picked a stone
And built a golden temple
With his graceful hands

Once upon a time
There was a nameless man
In a promised land
With giant golden castles
One night he picked a stone
And shattered crystal towers
With his greedy hands

Once upon a time
There was a mad old man
In a hideous land
With burning trees and rivers
One night he picks a stone
And throws it at the moon
With his worn out hands
He hits an old tree’s crown
And burning leaves are falling
Into fading lands

Sunday, October 09, 2011

Unresting



It's unresting, isn't it?
Realizing we will die.
Suddenly we're in a hurry.


Friday, October 07, 2011



One can find it in the eyes of one's beholder.

Monday, October 03, 2011

Die Brücke

Eine grüne Linie gerinnt
hinter Lidern, die Stirn
kühlt an erkaltetem Glas

Ein Vakuum drückt ins Holz
Ein Schatten auf der Brücke
Eine Narbe in der Beuge
Nicht weiter wichtig

Zwei küssten sich
auf meinem Haar
Was davon ist übrig?

Der Wolf ruft mich
in den Wald, wilde Tiere!
sagt man, sind ausgestorben
An Hunde glaube ich nicht ...

Ich liege auf der Brücke
den Blick in die Sterne und wünschte
ich wünschte nicht

Sunday, October 02, 2011


Sand between toes.
Wind in the sails.
Sun in my hair.



Saturday, October 01, 2011



A girl walked to a well to fetch some fresh cool water.