Tuesday, February 28, 2012

My spirit is just a splinter

My spirit is just a splinter
Just one beat in the world's giant heart
But added with your spirit and all the million others
We push life
Into veins between the stars

Sunday, February 26, 2012

the mighty playful water

some things take time 
to let them pass, 
to be a leaf floating on waves
accepting the mighty playful water 
drowns leaves from time to time

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Face to face with a tree

When I was a child
I stood face to face with a  tree
He was young and sprouting 
Brim-full with sap
The texture of his leaves
Felt mellow on my skin
I loved his brisk and noble sight
Today he would have outgrown
All of us, wasn't it for someone 
Who chopped him down at night
I sit on his chair and know
I should kneel on the ground

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Winter had grown

I sat on the steps to my garden
waiting for nothing. Winter had grown
and covered me in snow. A fine layer 
gleamed on my fingers,
my hair, my chest and my naked toes.

I sat still, listened to trees tinkling
while all birds had headed South. 
After many days and nights,
my heart was frozen too. I didn’t hear a beat, 
my lips were blue, my lashes breaking,
didn’t know, was I dead or still alive.

One afternoon, 
just before the sun set behind the trees, 
a soft breeze rustled through their branches.
It was time for him to come.
He sang to me with a warm and deep voice.
Very close to my ear I heard the sweetest melody,
it captured me. My heart started beating,
a rush of blood danced in my chest,
flooded my fingers, flooded my head.

He kissed my lashes, woke up the trees,
tiny little flowers unfolding in ice, 
sending their scents to my garden's rearmost corners,
awakening beehives with all their fragile strength.

He picked a blossom from a nearby tree, 
very gently, placed it in my hair,
a cherry blossom melted me in sunset
and all my layers of adamantine ice.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Äpfel im Morgentau

Äpfel tropfen noch vom Morgentau, Bäume halten reifen Atem an, während Vögel auf saftigem Astwerk sitzen, das im ständigen Richtungswechsel von Blatt zu Blatt überrundet wird. Ein Kater schläft in der Mulde, stört sich nicht an Läusen, die die Rinde und sich selbst unterhalten.

Und dann rief ich die Krähen, trainierte sie täglich drei Stunden, richtete sie regelrecht ab, mit Krähenfüßen auszuhacken, was im schwarzen Feld vergraben lag. In den Murmeln stecken Fingernägel, beim Spiel gebrochen, die du immer poliert, lackiert, an den Enden so fein geschliffen hast. Auch jetzt noch sind sie sicher vor dem Dreck, der die verlorenen Perlen beschichtet.

Eine Höhle zwischen Wurzeln diente als Versteck. Als ich nachsah, war alles geplündert. Ein Mader, ein Fuchs, vielleicht war’s ein Hund. Nur eine Locke, ein verblasster Schuh und die verwelkte Schleife, die jeden Tag das Haar umstreifte, blieben als Zeugen zurück.

Ich trug sie heim, errichtete einen Tempel, dem Gott der Glasperlen zu Ehren, opferte Haar und Seidenschuh. Was jetzt noch bleibt, ist die Schleife, sie hängt neben dem Kater im Geäst, und es bleibt der Baum, der alles trägt, was wir ihm vorgetragen haben, als die Welt schlief und Äpfel im Morgentau reiften.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

learn what it means


why worry so much
about falling houses
it’s time for them

above my left eye
I open a door
for sloughs and tadpoles

swampy grassland
growing in headrooms
spreading with damp

it’s too wet
to make a fire
let’s come together

and learn
what it means to
warm up hand by hand

When all houses are debris

I must go to the streets
and protest
against houses breaking down,
and stars being buried

I thank every bird
who picks a fallen star
and brings it back to sky

every star holds a wish,
hell they don’t!

but one day
when all is in debris
stars are all that’s left
to look up to,
don’t bury them with houses

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

To find what you have buried

There will always be
Stars in my sky
Doesn’t matter whether they have 
Fallen into dark lakes
Or yielded fields of rye
Don’t hide them too deep
Else birds must cease to fly
I will turn around
Every piece of debris
To find what you have buried
So birds can pick them
Like worms to feed their fledglings
Please don’t ask me why
I have this eerie feeling
Without stars there won’t be sky

Sunday, February 05, 2012

We do not get thirsty unless we do not drink.

Saturday, February 04, 2012

swallowed a cat

a big and fat bird
sat on the antenna
i wondered what it had eaten
it looked as if it
had swallowed a cat

All we catch is fish

All letter writing peters out with time
Even the secret ones, the very secret ones
Where poets themselves sense nothing,
Of stars and hidden moons
In trivial discussions,
The tenor of events 
Has a stubborn melody

Who is to blame
That moonlight is nothing 
But a reflection of sun.

We keep reaching for stars in a lake
Well aware
That all we catch is fish
Which doesn’t mind the moon to fall
Off the sky, 
And sky doesn't mind either
To become a clear and yawning void.
Why is it so hard
To throw away flowers
When they are withered.
After all, we throw away
Those who have died.

The moon

Realizing the moon
doesn’t glow,
turns his existence
into a very pretentious 
reflection of sun.

Where the ducks go in wintertime

I was seeing this guy
And he showed me around town,
His town, he even knew
Where the ducks go in wintertime.

I was new in town
And curious to know
Every hidden corner.

He was handsome and tall
And I asked him to jump
Into the icy pond.
I would if he did, I said,
And tossed his vigorous shoulder,
Just a little, it was a joke
But I was serious about it.

He laughed and watched the swans
Passing by. Taking each other’s hands,
Still kind of shy, we continued walking
Down the road, believing
It would be forever
For the next couple of months.

We were so young
And didn’t know better.
How should we have known.

Maybe we should have jumped.

Friday, February 03, 2012

His plight


When you asked me for a favour
You cried without tears, but I could tell
Snow covered your eyes, tiny little flakes
Caught up in your lashes, melting in light.

In a mix of desires my shadow serves your believes.
It is so cold outside, icecastles grow from rivers,
We skate around but never go inside.

When you come back, you said,
I might be dead, and the castles be molten.
Can’t you stay and wait till winter is over?

You know my wings would grow old,
unlearn to fly, I would turn cold or fall from the sky.
But then, is it too much to ask me to suffer.

I left you and your castles and remember
One window in the taller left tower.
To make me see his reflection
Someone switched on and off the light.

Sometimes when I wander in streets,
Tiny little alleys, pass around a corner,
I expect to find him waiting to hand over
His plight. Switching on and off the light.

Thursday, February 02, 2012

inhaled

when i read your poem
i wondered, was it for me
but then how should i ask
for what was answered
by thinking out the question

words written by one
who has to bring forth
what is inhaled by the other
can they not only belong 
to all engulfed 
by subtle streams of life

a pretentious layer of sun

have been staring at this square
for hours, days, many more to come;

the right eye’s view flinches
into the left, slightly irritated

I wonder why it moves, observe,
monitor it closely, I know

it doesn’t move,
still I suspect the square

to play a trick on me, too proud
to think of my eyes

being tired;
they don’t even look baggy yet,

it’s just my skin,
pale toothpaste,

my natural colour,
everything else a pretentious layer of sun;

if I was still in school,
teachers would send me home

again and I wouldn’t mind
looking sick, for a day or two

to think about life and all,
what to do with my future;

but school is over for good,
nobody sends me home to think

and I keep staring
at this square on my desk

and wonder when
it learned to play tricks

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

Insane

This world leaves us with three kinds of people:
Those who cannot cope with reality and are diagnosed insane.
Those who deny reality and are diagnosed normal but are nonetheless insane.
Those who face reality and know they are insane.