:::

 

The over-cut inn is paid for with hunger

the drunks chattered there

in childish light revelation

they touch the circumference fur and poles

the sound of a falling egg

is the absence of sound

in the elongated slow motion seconds

where someone is banged in a sidechamber

so the chandeliers swing

can it be said more clearly

I tear the tablecloth away with a snap

under the stacks of plates

just before the climax is reached

and the falling egg

the falling egg

falls silently

in elongated slow motion seconds

and never really seems to be united

with the gravity of earth

I myself am about to disappear

a ghost - almost nothing

without a single gasp

I hear the elongated howl

from a large insatiable mouth.

 

:::

 

The egg of end cries lid of questions

lays manatees over your water lily sky

the knuckle-fat silver trembles the male-leaf tree

the gnomes give alp cake

Pluto splits völvesticks

dormant bags of semen for these violets

hands tip the dinner of self

the Gnipahole struggles through poisonous walls

red is the last color to disappear before darkness.

 

:::

 

Wrinkle your roll and fold your back

and get me where you want

you and I are enigmatic

it makes us a joyful unified entity.

 

The deep never dries out

you are nobly shaped

you are screams

you are today's human in cloud sauce

and yellow in your aftertaste.

 

I am a seahorse

I must be shod

we fur your eye

will you cry helplessly

like an egg spinning on a needle

will you cry your head empty of sun

will you cry your head empty?

 

I am a gray seal

of many visions

listen to jellyfish twilight

do you fix every single pier pile

does it make you smile

do you die a little every time?

 

The deep never dries out

do you freeze under the leaves of the trees

on the bottom of the pond

I hardly slept tear studies

the impossible cot death hesitates a little longer.

 

I am a seahorse

I need to be shoed

we will fur your eye

will you cry helplessly

like an egg spinning on a needle

will you cry your head empty of sun

will you cry your head empty?

 

I am a seahorse

I need to be shoed

I  am a seahorse

I am a seahorse

I am a seahorse.

 

Do you want to cry helplessly?

 

I am a seahorse

I am a seahorse

I am a seahorse.

 

Do you want to cry your head empty of sun

do you want to cry your head empty?

 

I am a seahorse

I need to be shod

I am a seahorse

I am a seahorse

I am a seahorse.

 

To wipe the ocean of tears

do you want to cry your head empty of sun

do you want to cry your head empty

like an egg spinning on a needle

and get me where you want?

 

 

:::

 

The wren calls at dawn

the birds flutter at your cry

the tornado sky in your heart

sleeps on your shore

in the muffled song of waves.

 

Your rail will soon sleep

you will wake up in the hour of retribution

the breath of clear water springs from the desert

baptism is the peace of smoothed mistakes

your golden memory speaks forgiveness.

 

The mud-swept height you seek

the riddles are lifted from the bloodsuckers' suction

the sacred will be abused no more

volcanoes will rise from the seabed

fate is a trawl of flame-spun nets

rising up in you like jellyfish.

 

You are all poles of eggs

beware lest they fall out

the end of killing approaches

the earth's parting

which way will you go

do you already know your way?

 

What spirit advises you

letters from shining ships reach out

sister and brother stars are here to help you

they harvest all your tears

drops are uncovered as living water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

:::

 

Wet shadow fastens silver-armed presence

honor-weeping the harvest moon 

moves your fair foot

the river's muddy hand reaches out mighty

deaf, grief-stricken human affliction

baskets wet with milk caps

a general misses his crucifix

hymns cradle phonetic

puddles dried into statements

mushrooms are the telephone system of the forest

now you can hear the language of trees.

 

:::

 

Just for a fragment of the sun

lowers the head the days hit by felt

hood of haze tries to get as much sleep as possible

pinball machine with

pine green against the wall 

they beg to

take up the kiss debt from the river's bark

dimmed by the ointment of silence, 

the banners of light take spawning

into its throat;

from its car window the predator shows teeth

which of the previous ones 

are phase mental and sleeping

toboggan shelters are attached to

churches thick with debt to the kisses of the dead

from bags gushes the mind like the thin beer

it is clear that the fog smurf has begun.

 

:::

 

The rift that is pickled pickled, 

the rift that is pickled pickled

the tongue hardly sells window glass

everything is up to you 

and the destruction launches the hand's viaduct.

 

This is the spectacle, 

Gonggong raises you

Gonggong raises you.

 

This is how you will be finished before

a thousand years breathe

on your vigilance and everything lies dormant.

 

Catch a seagull, catch a sheep's bleating

the seagulls taste the space of the air

and are so ready to save Gonggong

and your cry hardly mourns in its frame.

 

This is the spectacle, 

Gonggong raises you

Gonggong raises you.

 

This is how they raise you in your voice

this is how they raise you in your voice

this is how they raise you in your voice

this is how they raise you in your voice

this is how they raise you in your voice

this is how they raise you in your voice.

This is how it is seen, 

Gonggong raises you

Gonggong raises you

up in its mothership.

 

The rift that pickles pickles, 

the rift that pickles pickles

oh, so fine. 

 

 

 

:::

 

The degrees in your garden

like an echo of the lost gold

calls from your head

the board is knocked down

like a clapper

over your mothersleep.

 

The tears of wounded whale

are the waters of your aquarium

the throat shows its eels

your song as you empty it of screams

crying the world

like a voice

of octopus arms.

 

:::

 

 

 

Two seconds are hundreds of years

you don't have to try anything

you don't have to try anything

if you want to ask me a question

you don't have to try anything

you don't live long enough to get an answer.

 

There is ice in my wounds

fire in previous years

magma is my music

I tremble and calves

You to strong-willed chains.

 

Because the galaxy is rolling out

I would advise you to be star-twisted

the creature of the kissed garden 

finds you drinking hieroglyphics

and you rest in the jewel's deep pouch

with which you count your journeys

none of your fellow seconds 

know when you will arrive.

There is ice in my wounds

fire in previous years

magma is my music

I tremble and calves

You to strong-willed chains.

You don't live long enough to get an answer

you don't have to do anything

if you want to ask me a question

you don't have to do anything

you don't have to do anything

two seconds are hundreds of years.








 

 

:::

 

Before the dog was to be walked

you walked the path of vision

you walked our visions like nothingness

and mentioned your face completely drained

if the dog's breath was all there was

and the silver fox of your voice

stood in the mush of dialect

you walked our visions like nothingness.

 

There was nothing

nothing you could say

nothing you could do

nothing, nothing at all

a little while ago I loved you so much

it was all in my mind

I had to leave it behind

I had to let it go

I had to walk the dog.

 

:::

 

Zen falls in line with Saint Joergen

the zen of labor slams the Rolls Royce

and the guest lights up like a gentleman

and rolls his vision over the stage

zen falls in line with Saint Joergen

the zen of labor slaps the guest

which gives up between two sentences

so you have to listen to them again

the guest rolls his eyes brightly

zen falls in line with Saint Joergen

the zen of labor strikes the deaf

wheelchairs leave the light 

with baskets full of hunger

to let them themselves 

wave the flag of emotions

over the barking of dogs

zen falls in line with Saint Joergen

the zen of labor hits the finish line in the Pyeners

foot breaks through yellow magic whistle

to be here with us

we are all guests who light up

in a smile

zen falls in line with Saint Joergen

the zen of labor slams the flaps of the fans

this is how Haiti draws its consul

just before you extend your hand

and touches

the rolling camera

zen falls in line with Saint Joergen

the zen of labor is already hitting

the guest's luminous hand gestures

that lets characters be characters

not to talk about anything else

zen falls in line with Saint Joergen

labor zen slams oozing zen

Saint Joergen smiles now and then for a long time

zen falls in line with Saint Joergen

who looks happy

such as a happy man

is Saint Joergen, Saint Joergen, Saint Joergen.

 

:::

 

A thousand pitfalls

twist like thin animals

ready like puzzles

peacocks play chess with swans

weave requiems into the sky's carpet.

 

Birds are your thoughts

they fly with full alert

every creature is your word

cats sit on your heart

right where it hurts.

 

The landscape is an image

and when you return to it

you enter into yourself

surrounded by the glow of image.

 

Birds are your thoughts

they fly with full alert

every creature is your word

cats sit on your heart

right where it hurts.

 

Even Mozart's Requiem

is a ghost train through the landscape

the imagery opens its first chapter

in a swarm of sleepers

each time a theme returns home to itself

with an obvious whir

of homecoming and farewell

each time you go to sleep

each time you hear a ghost train passing by.

 

A thousand pitfalls

twist like thin animals

ready like puzzles

peacocks play chess with swans

weave requiems into the sky's carpet.

 

Birds are your thoughts

they fly with full alert

every creature is your word

cats sit on your heart

right where it hurts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

:::

 

Jogging, jogging all day

jogging, jogging, jogging

jogging, jogging all day

jogging, jogging, jogging

what are you up to?

are you down on your knees

or are you just in for a fight

even the common and naughty meeting, yup

your cucumber salad makes you deaf

maybe you're just too deep

it meets you in the ford

with all your courage

it rules and moves you

gathers your crosses

wept did they forget your roots, roots

naughty quilts lifted over you

it gathers in your rhythm

and becomes familiar to you

you are alto sax

it is the same as you

want so many notes out

you are crucified crucified crucified

you are vättelys breathed alive in space

you are vättelys breathed alive in space

it rules and moves you

gathers your crosses

wept did they forget your roots, roots

naughty quilts lifted over you

it gathers in your rhythm

before it was just threads like the white of an egg

purposeful seagulls

saw you standing and being cow

breathing out

and they rule and touch you

collect your crosses

screaming they forgot your roots, roots

naughty quilts lift over you

rise to give beak

you are vättelys blown alive in space

you are vättelys blown alive in space

out to exercise

jogging,  jogging all day

jogging,  jogging

breathing out

do you think you will hit first

into the room

out of the room

with a thousand shining arms.

 

:::

 

A great comfort I won't be cheated of

so charred the birds' wings take off

out of themselves the pots rumble

the cuckoos' pitiful caw

after the passing of towering clouds

a sea that sinks and sinks its dolphins

and all the weapons you load your sentences with.

 

That comfort withdraws debt-free

slow gifts to give

I empty the hysterical recognition of dead

seagulls like hail-born seagulls

your hairstyle is so sick that the shadows mash

you talk like porridge you sleep in

a sea that sinks and sinks its dolphins.

 

 

:::

 

A few years ago we got silvered

questions we barely danced so fondly

questions that lay like anthems on the tongue

death breathed the moon of death oh so fondly.

 

Death takes your poison 

    & weighs your cold index fingers

this is how it helps your innate wounds

the older you get

the more a question stares through the coffin lid

the spirit of the question breathes on you.

 

The knife edge of the voice challenges you

give yourself to your breath oh so fondly

the wrinkles lift you into the salvation of light

and stir something in you that makes you fondly.

 

Give us gendered kitchens

and give us the clucking laughter of voices

you ask every crack you encounter like this

this is how gifts give themselves in return

while you shout into the abyss

the spirit of the question breathes on you.

 

I ask for forgiveness

the gray darkness has overpowered

the hardest guilt to get rid of

is guilt for something you didn't do

ask Christ wide awake in your abyss

the spirit of questioning breathes on you.

 

The banner of imminent death 

                    waves above your head

and you wave it oh so affectionately

the gift of a thousand angels

cries in your affectionate voice

the spirit of questioning breathes on you.