Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Will they dry up

When they come closer will they unlace
ancient tongues, will vessels remain
spreading through bodies
what damp spreads through tissue
or will they dry up what moisture contains
comforting fires no one should follow
abiding to virtues that make them the same
among many others who cannot unfollow
grey dried up candles without any flame?


What if this one cannot be drawn
and she can only draw from within
heartbeat that ticks a little bit sideways
and only sideways the tick finds her hymn

Melody turning grey into colour
colour so easily turned into grey
when it is alloyed with heartbeat of others
not leaving hearts beat their own way

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

is all that counts.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

till their vapors dissolved

world has been always
fuzzy, hazy, a bit shaky, maybe
when I was a very small child
when I knew my grandfather’s garden
as the entire world
where I could sit between flowers
braiding wreaths
in a stillness of hours
a bee’s sting
couldn’t shake a ground
just raise a tear
that made the flowers blossom
and saturated leaves
till their vapors dissolved into a sky
that led their way to your ground
and made them appear in your eye
how could I care more?

earth surrenders

earth surrenders to
surrounding silent solitude
shaping from emptiness
its inner ground of being


in some nights
nerves are tense
and all well meant
illuminate a path
to misunderstanding

- no one said it was easy to unlearn.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Weavers within

It’s all entangled in metaphors
a fabric
that robes and hems our thinking,
concreteness hidden
beneath and within
the veil that ties truth into time
and keeps us aloof from
a world wrought by weavers
working in us and working us in

Friday, November 18, 2011

While you walk

Just a little gesture, one word, a blink of the eye
a hand on the shoulder
while you walk down the path
that lies so heavily before your body, always
dragging forward all you have
into grounds fractured within your shadow
which will never be even
no matter how much you try
to step over the chinks in your armour
they cannot be fixed

One little gesture
turns unopened letters 
piling up
in your mind
to harmless staples of lacerable paper
and day lightens its shade
in crystal clear mirth
brimming over 
the cup in your hands

They so firmly hold onto
its handle, they know
the only stroke they have

Thursday, November 17, 2011

All your beauty

To save you from rain beats
I took the umbrella
In an instance its shadow
Beclouded your beauty
In a way a cloud could never have.

All your beauty dried up and I
Could see your ashes
Poured into soil
Making clouds burst
In a way my eyes could never have.

To see what is not there

This tiny spot
In the middle of my forehead
It makes me shy
Sometimes I feel
It is your touch
Placing this eye
To see what is not there
I wonder why

The door ajar

In the eyes of doubtfulness
he prevails, it is his house.
I follow Orpheus’ path, without hesitation
into first beauty-full morning light.

The door ajar
leaving behind nobleness
of heart hero(in)es, childhood
dreams I never remembered laying out
a trail to find their burning hearts
over seven hills that one day grew
larger than mountains.

In the midst of a forest 
hides a tiny kingdom’s ginger house.
Nightbirds ate the window frames
while I was asleep behind curtains 
parting me from chiming sounds 
of a vow
that has not yet been spoken.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Die Zusammensetzung der Teile

Und dann fühlte sich
die Luft im Raum ganz anders an.
Alles wie zuvor,
nur die Zusammensetzung der Teile
brachte ein neues Geräusch,
das die Resonanz im Ohr
unhörbar verschob. Besuch,
den der Raum noch nicht kannte.               

Friday, November 11, 2011


The funny thing about now is that it is now and only now and at the same time it is always.

I coughed and he died

I remember mother’s bird in a cage above my head
to the left of my cradle from an infant’s perspective.
He lived between sill and kitchen cupboard 
in one of four corners framing a table
four chairs and a bench. A downy green feather 
fell in my mouth. I coughed and he died
I remember him singing. A high cracking voice.
He could speak only Tuesdays. Very dark eyes.
He bobbed his head while drinking water.
I began to forget when he left; for years.
I was younger than one, only asked once 
where he had gone. He flew away to live in the jungle.
Admiring his courage I took over his place
bobbing my head when drinking water
trying to sing with a bird's high-pitched voice
forgetting why. I never wondered why.
And I kept trying. One day I gave in
learnt how to fly. Now I remember.

Oasis always

Fountain fights fall
in streams across bridges
cutting dales
til storm-tost tents 
the gleaming desert sun,
we sense a turning point
a clearing in the jungle,
an awe-inspiring tremble, 
where all that ends commenced
in bewilderment,
oasis, always.

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

Monday, November 07, 2011

your insight

met you between
party people, thinner, almost
didn’t notice, younger, a glazy stare
unrested me, the same
in my dream, years later i start 
to wonder about every step
by step since then
you’ve learnt to cope, channel, express
drugs couldn’t mute
your insight
creeps into me, recoils 
my energy, i learn to
take notice

Friday, November 04, 2011

Today I walked by the river
Autumn leaves were floating in its stream
They make room for frosty shades of winter
Coating all colors with snowflake’s icy gleam

Thursday, November 03, 2011

The tower

In the midst of an ocean stands a giant tower.
We anchor the boat.
Stairs wind around walls, we spiral fidgety.
No balustrade to cling to.
Passing black panes, I see a pirate’s eye.
Passing another, reflecting sunlight, your gleaming face.
Stairs behind us drop.
Breathlessly upwards we hustle.
From the apex we guess the world’s horizon.
It makes us wonder.
The only way off is to jump, 
tumble, dive into deep water.
Wind swirls up your hair.
I'm touched by sunlight's ray.
When it sets, we lose sight,
might fade away, spiraling
into deeper midst of a tightening tower.
Lost birds are waiting for us to come.
Do you remember?
They fell off the sky.

Wednesday, November 02, 2011

If we place ourselves
at the centre of our universe,
our thoughts get stuck
in circular motion.