Half Past Samurai

2012-02-07T12:22:00.000-08:00

1918

how about that time, that other place

a time we didn't know

a time in which we wasted time we didn't have

on streets not yet invented

or named

after state leaders that had yet to die

that city, a book

see it while away on yellowing paper

untrained in the art of flaunting it's pages

to the flirtacious eyes of a reader

desperate

to be persuaded into an affair

the libraries go hungry

the same libraries

we trained in verse

they lend their arms to the sick

and desireless

against an annuity

consisting only of parts of their non-longing

lions without lion tamers

and no knowledge

of how to go wild

jennie, the vanishing elephant

resurfaces at the far end of sonnenallee

replacing a gasping audience in the hippodrome

with a complacent pack of eurotravelers

outside the estrel hotel

grasping a disparate selection of german beers

with one hand

and applying the second for applause

the diary entries from that day all read:

«dear diary, we won»

2012-01-31T13:18:00.000-08:00

PHANTOM LIMBO

what to say, really, when you're thinking about what to say

as someone enters, forcing the question:

«what to say»

i say i am happy, but don't know that i am happy

i say i understand, but don't know if i understand

i say i am puzzled, and i know i am puzzled, because no one who is not puzzled would be able to write:

«i say i am puzzled»

there must be a dungeon in my body, or a dungeon in what i claim to be my body

i know little of my heart

I know little of the mythology to which it belongs, physical or metaphysical

from the hands of a ten year old with a crayon it looks a certain way

from the hands of a coroner, carefully placing it in a plastic container filled with ice, it looks a certain way

i have learned to accept both

my heart has two dimensions

my brain invariably looks the same

never sketched or aesthetically mutilated on the walls of a red bike shed, where some unclassifiable characters are ceaselessly drawing blood, kissing, or finding individual ways of accepting the torment of not being able to not be able to smoke cigarettes, correctly

«now i smoke cigarettes correctly»

can i say that

you make me think of a time when i knew i was beautiful, like flowers are beautiful, and also handsome, but not like flowers are handsome

i want to write you something beautiful, but i barely know you

how can you write something beautiful to someone you barely know

should i base it on how i feel

i write

«i feel heavenly»

does that make you feel beautiful

the way i want you to feel beautiful

does my effort in making you feel beautiful, make me beautiful, like handsome men are beautiful, before they turn into flowers by their own design, corporeal confusion wrapped in delicate paper

would you say

«you are beautiful»

the same way i would say

«you are beautiful»

and, it being said, will we turn beautiful, as in

«we are beautiful»

the pair of us, wondering what to say next, thinking we must already have said it

all

not being able, or willing, to bring it outside this immanent vortex of brilliantly timeless unification

we proceed to write on ourselves, with rainbow-colored fingertips, writing multitudes of stories, newly ancient scrolls that go splendidly unnoticed

only later observed as typhoonic shots of joy on an amazingly changing sky

within each freckle, tales of dynasties

south of a scar, the intimacy of a hundred years of togetherness

then drawing

carefully crafted lines with paleolithic efficency, cumbersome, yet classy curves, filling every single unoccupied stretch of skin with spellbinding marvels, proudly showcasing the improbability of a lover and a lover, and their love, looking something like a tablet found on a holy mountain

over and over

and surprisingly

on the wall of an inhabited or uninhabited cave

us then

depicted as two buffalos asleep on a hot stone

2012-01-18T10:14:00.000-08:00

DON'T BE LONG

we make our way home

after the storm

and talk to our families

on a multitude of singing cell phones

explain

how late we are

and how many hours we spent waiting

at the railroad stations in Skövde

or Hallsberg

for the trains to run as normal

we talk about the power outage on boxing day

how many hours it lasted

and how much fun we had

looking for matches and candles

and how we then chatted for hours

until our flickering faces made us drowsy

and that there was something there

tugging at us

pulling at someone in us

we didn't remember or recognise

someone rising east of a non-descript childhood

into a calendar year

marked with sticky crayons

on a chequered almanac

we miss you so much we say

and elaborate on how wonderful it will be

to be home again

that we didn't fully realise before

but get it now

and that we are coming to be with you

for forever

we think

in the conversational pauses

where we look out the windows

on trees speeding past in snowless greens

with the sun skipping bravely

over all the low branches

in the pauses

where the childs laughter fill the carriage

from having successfully drawn a turtle

2012-01-10T13:29:00.000-08:00

GOD BLESS GOD

i target / tar got/ and forget / something i have already forgot/

missile strikes / in paramilitary suicide cells/

missile strikes / at BAE systems / london, england

mirages in an age of mirrors/

reflections in the air / air in the reflections/ breath of fresh /

artists wanting manifestos / and not the opposite /

folded hands and beggars caps / entering the poet's office/

and not the opposite / the next dada king / or anything /

but never again boring / again / wintering /

out of season / the poet speaks and murmurs both /

murmurs more than speak a lot / witness comme finesse /

and claim success / refined distress / sing your praise /

with a prayer of songs / applicate and reproduce /

replicate and reduce / kiss the frog and frolic /

god bless / bless god /

lest she forget / what she has already forgot /

2011-12-25T08:03:00.000-08:00

THE LEOPARD AND THE GOAT

to let you know

that i think you are perfect

i call you up late one night

when i know you are sleeping

and talk at length

about your imperfections

as i listen to you listen

as i talk

i know

how glad you must be right now

that we never have to pretend differently

again

that your faults and inability

of pertaining static properties

is really the root

of us

ever changing into someone

we will not be afraid to lose

into someone we never have to be again

as i listen to you listen

as i accentuate the force

of our agreeable non-agreement

by telling parables of how a bicycle

can never retain the same wheels once

they are changed

or how a government can never reconstitute

the vigor of the ideas it was originally founded upon

once it is in decline

you decide to prove your love to me

some 5-10 minutes ago

by having already

quietly hung up the phone

2011-12-13T07:12:00.000-08:00

LET´S Go

when history grows stupendous/

we shall climb into her/ this other

history/ like a celebratory

infestation/

with no movements/

or actions/

a cluster of arms/

holding on to a cluster of bodies/

ourobourically dissolving each other/

in an endless series/ of final

embraces/

nothing to annihilate/ but annihilation/

a new skin will cover our fingers/ legs/

chest/ head/ until all is coccoonified/

when we burst/ our new skin/ will travel/

down every branch of the family tree/

and erect a statue at the roots/ free

of commands/

my new skin/ i see it as a sail/ is strung

between the unfinished framework/ of two

neighboring buildings/ where

i inhabit the one/ and soon

the other

2011-12-02T06:31:00.000-08:00

ATTACK OF THE PACT

having finally finished my reading of Deleuze/ I sat down

on a patch of exterminated cockroaches/ and waited for Deleuze

to finish his reading of me

2011-11-30T16:12:00.000-08:00

I LOVE DUST

we are taking turns

getting rid of me

I am nothing

solar flares

extinguished

on a cold forehead

twenty days or so

before

one of the Kennedys are assassinated

history doesn´t approve of redundancy

yet

so many of it´s followers

will never be remembered

2011-11-08T10:28:00.000-08:00

just can't get no satisfraction

i turned baroque

in the middle of a sentence

where you

were supposed to cut me off

so now

i'm reading up on

literary time periods

and later

when i find your number

i will call you

from a poem about a telephone

written by john donne

2011-10-31T08:56:00.000-07:00

RE(pro)DUCTION

dive into the blue light

borrow my dreams

let's get stuck together

and chuckle

at our human upholstery

2011-10-18T16:41:00.000-07:00

pointless poem to a retarded alien entity

we are born aliens

we share an alien humanity

a potential to circumvent our alien nature

in honour of the very few that manage this transitional grace/we call upon them for their leadership

the woman who tends her child on a garbage heap/and sells her body for scrap iron/to later trade it for food

the man who disperses a pack of starved wolves/by sitting down in their midst/putting his skinny bones up for offer

the little girl/who stares out of the sickness she is condemned for/with only compassion for those who seek her demise

the boy who leaps into the volcano to save the village he comes from

we are born onto a virgin mothership

in our alien mirrors we write nothing/we hold feathers/but can not draw ink

in our alien passports/we collect alien stamps

in our alien baths/we leave alien rings

in our alien banks/we trust our alien money

in our alien lives/we suffer an alien sorrow.

the true alien we find/when we know we are aliens too/is a human alien

[adhering to one sentence only/written on the wall of a cave/ in the south of france/ 32000 years ago:]

"I told you so"

2011-10-13T05:55:00.000-07:00

What a celebrity showcasing his bedroom on national television might as well be saying instead of «this is where the magic happens».

«This is where I sleep. Alone.»

«This is where suppression begins.»

«This is where I bring prostitutes.»

«This is where maintaining a heterosexual poster boy image to sell millions of [insert commodity here] to millions of people, while I secretly fraternise with men in parks, at night, is really put to the test. I call this room Narnia.»

«This is where the magic happens. The full three minutes of it.»

«This is where the maid cleans three times a week, while I sleep in generic hotel rooms. In fact, this is the first time I've been in here.»

«This is where I cry.»

«This is where I eat the majority of my dinners.»

2011-08-18T07:22:00.000-07:00

EXCERPT:

[...]
I will stay with you
until you realise who I am
and then
it's you
you will stay with me
until I realise who you are
and then
it's me
I will stay with you
until you realise who I am
and then
it's you
you will stay with me
until I realise who you are
and then
it's me
I will stay with you
until you realise who I am
and then
it's you
you will stay with me
until I realise who you are
and then
it's me
I will stay with you
until you realise who I am
and then
it's you
you will stay with me
until I realise who you are
and then
it's me
[...]

2011-08-02T05:59:00.001-07:00

M L L R C

lulled

by oceans

dripping into being

2011-08-01T03:49:00.000-07:00

CAT PWM

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2011-07-06T02:15:00.000-07:00

Eleven poems to Osama Bin laden

are we not dissimilar you and I/ hiding in plain sight for ten years/ luxuriously overlooked/ not abandoned/ not remembered/ tomorrow's obituaries tattoed on burnt skin/

too dark/ too dark to write now that you're gone/
too dark/ too dark to write now that I'm gone /

are we not dissimilar you and I/ we inhabit the same street/ we anticipate the same milkman/ and the same drunken idiot to knock the milk over / through the windows/ we see the same bodies that are not there/ the same surrendered place that letters arrive to/

the same dust will settle on our sunken bodies/ in the same submerged chest of drawers/ adorned with the same unspecified carvings/

the mandala of our life/

when yours is disturbed/ so is mine

we are falling apart peacefully/ perfectly/

our glow-in-the-dark skin is humming saliently in the constant evening/ as the exterminators make their rounds/ under another broken moon

we are blinded/ from feigning a light that grew too strong/ we are blinded/ caught up in a pointless supernova of seduction/

our wings ablaze/ we are moths/ radiating briefly

before being terminated/ in the questionable stillness of a philosophers candlelight

do you/ like me/ look towards that mountain/

unsure if it can know/ where it began/

and if possible/ where it will end/

and at the same time/

if it can know that it has ended already/

no more volcanic hellos and goodbyes/

or longings towards conversations/ where you open up/

and say; we can be the same/ rock hard and loving/

all questions made for us/ and answers/

definitely/ always there/

growing for no reason at all/

do you ever justify dreams/

do you ever think it is your task to forgive the sun/

do you ever find the time to write poetry/

5. (television)

house/ castle/ camelot/ the office/

smallville/ community/

south park/ parks and recreation/

the walking dead/ entourage/ lost/

friends/ breaking bad/ mad men/ breaking in/

I'M A CELEBRITY GET ME OUT OF HERE/ gossip girl/

sons of anarchy/ navy cis : la/ the killing/

prison break/

make it or break it/ big bang theory/

x files/ bonanza/

true blood/ workaholics/

6. (film)

showdown at boot hill/ when hell broke loose/

never so few/ the magnificent seven/

master of the world/ a thunder of drums/ X-15/

Kid Galahad/

the great escape/ 4 for Texas/ battle for the bulge/

the sandpiper/ the guns of Diablo/

this property is condemned/

the dirty dozen/ guns for san sebastian/

farewell friend/ villa rides/ once upon a time in the west/ lola/

rider on the rain/

you can't win em all/ violent city/

cold sweat/ someone behind the door/

red sun/

Chato's land/

the Valachi papers/

the mechanic/ the stone killer/ chino/ mr Majestyk/

death wish/ break out/ breakheart pass/

hard times/ from noon till three/ St Ives/

the white buffalo/ telefon/ love and bullets/

borderline/ cabo blanco/ deathhunt/

death wish 2/ 10 to midnight/

the evil that men do/

death wish 3/ Murphy's law/ assassination/

death wish 4 : the crackdown/ messenger of death/

forbidden subjects/ the indian runner/

death wish 5 : the face of death/

7. (porn)

young and naughty/ weekend delights/ unwilling lovers/ stripped for action/ vicious virgin/ barbara the barbarian/ a place beyond shame/ a climax of blue power/

caught from behind/ devil's playground/ dracula exotica/ dirty looks/ endless nights/ girls of the third reich/ getting ahead/ for your thighs only/

intimate lessons/ illusion of ecstacy/

lust at first bite/ secret desire/ platinum paradise/

ressurection of eve/ wild wild west/ three phases of eve/

scent of a woman/ perverted passions/ fringe benefits/ first time at cherry high/

behind the green door/ beyond fulfillment/

dark passions/

baby face/ hot lips/

(letter)

cat vomit

still adorns

the antechambers of my house

a guzzling alien entity

waits with mock egyptian pride

for me

to feed it it's next poem

howareyou?

tellmewhatgoeson?

twentyone-round missile salutes

five underground nuclear detonations

and a hug

untilwespeakagain

(single bullet theory)

entry wound: second world trade center/ high shoulder

exits through collective shame and latent paranoia, shaved chest/ mid-region/ around the second costal cartillage/ re-enters in open cavity way below colonial history/ scurries around only to dart out into the left ear of a laughing buddha/ muscles through and shoots off into the dark matter at the center of every universe/

10.

(letter, part two)

send my love to Bobby Fischer

11.

(floating polystyrene tombstone)

remember my smiles

they are a now a big smile

in a face of stone

2011-06-18T07:51:00.000-07:00

Scandinavellian

it drags on in skindergade/ old lullabies

and historic whispers/ all come together

it's night in the daytime/ and all

is let loose/ the cranes/ in frederiksberg

garden/ are jollypicking the quiet desperation

of a multitude of wheelchaired men

suddenly electrified by being subjected

to grace

water from boarded up kitchens

is instantly holified in the cup holders

two stories up/ in a house/ in another

part of town/ a silent prostitute

on creaking floorboards

returns to bed in amagerfälledvej

venetian blinds set with scotch tape

lightly adorns her persian rugs

in the universities/ students carry pillowcases

and heavy feathers/ into the dayful nighttime

haunted by vicissitudes of absent ghosts

in the city/ people stop inhabiting coffins

upscale graveyards are downscaled

into midscale real estate

kongens nytorv is up for grabs

but nobody knows

israels plads is given up

to a bilingual junkie

hc örsteds park is flooded by the city council

while the green grass/ of long forgotten

hunting grounds pushes through

sidewalks/ worn thin/ by the ambulance

of time

bicycles/ unknowingly/ jinglebelly in

the break of every dawn

in lustrous ouvertures/ the pavement

crack like glass/ at the feet

of the returning game

suddenly catapulted

into the highlights of contemporary obscurity

the fifth floors of nörrebro/ österbro

vesterbro/ frederiksberg/ valby/ vanlöse and

nordvest/ are no longer conquered

by her majestys regimented postal workers

they deliver their letters at home

to vary recipients/ sickened by this exaggerated

indulgence in correspondance/ and progress

and effort/ and the tiresome truth

that words carry on

from a dull microphone in griffenfeldtsgade

unplugged/ every syllable of every poem

from the beginning to the end

of the literary war/ is sung silently

as a hush

picked up only/ in a tower of prayer

discarded in a basement near mjölnerparken

and further out/ in klampenborg

in a heavily bejeweled tower of song/ that

bridges the precipice between two soggy mounds

it's bells hanging on the outside/ like tangents

for the deer and the rabbits

and the hedgehogs to cross and play on

the sparrows prepare their beaks

at blågårdsplads/ by rinsing them

in glimmering crescents of reappearing light

the seas manufature comforting whimpers

as the waters refract

their golden hibernation

the fish parade from nordhavn to sydhavn

to christianshavn/ like underwater unicorns

to umbillically undulate at kanin ø

so it is time again/ you realise

for knippelsbro to never/ and always

lower it's corrugated body into the

ultramarine slumber

of an innercity basin

for langebro to unite/ and reunite

the anemic brick houses of amager

with the anemic brick houses of the city

in a two-way blood transfusion

time/ you think/ to realise

that the bridges are not really burning

but are merely obscured

by the return of the sun

2011-06-15T12:41:00.000-07:00

soria moria gloria mundi

on a silverlined norwegian fjord
from waters deep below/ beams a light
from a hundred fish
turning their bellies up towards the sun
the blinded fishermen speak of stories
a timeless chatter
that rises up through corridors
all bent and twisted from neglect

norway/ they all begin
soon those sagas will be forgotten
and there will only be the tales
inscribed on your oily skin

norway/ they all continue
you fell by the sword too easily
and now you complain
because you are drowning in paperwork

another kind of man
should come from this
one that rises with the sun every morning
and holds the mountains like a crown
above his naked head

the andes/ the alps/ the rocky mountains

all this stone that has happened
will happen again
these mountains are also rolling
into history carelessly
to never talk of events transpired

but like neruda/ they also ask

what will come after the blood in the streets

what will come after the blood in the streets

2011-05-12T05:13:00.000-07:00

FAIL POEM

the river pregnant with murky history
let's you into it's slipstreams and takes
you past undetonated WWII mines
tagged with random graffiti
"SEX" or
"HITLER WAS HERE"
past unstoppable alcoholics who vomit
incessantly on their flickering reflections
past street kids warming around
Mother Shipton's bonfire
throwing burning kisses at whoever passes by

{who ever passes by}

past scruffy looking druids scavenging the remains
of some crumbled financial tower

{avenging a holy trumpet}

past television personalities
still undiscovered
past unlit beacons and smiling nightmen
guardians of wheels and kegs
cobblestoned shouts of trade and misery

{carbon dioxide treachery, or the sun eclipsed behind a powerful mountain top}

past the oak and the old rock that you know so well
and the sleeping giant in the blueberry patches
past suburban residencies with fake cave paintings
adorning the hallways
curtains shut tight

{cursed sights}

past the garden animals
almost returning to grass again
the moss and the heath
the last line of trees

the open sea
the fog
and the new cities
quietly building within you

2011-05-11T07:13:00.000-07:00

TREATY

Norway

soon

those old sagas
will be fossilised
so we can read them again

black scrolls
in another dead sea

our new skin

2011-04-12T08:32:00.000-07:00

INVERTEBRAILLE # 2

why not

listen

to the tears

hanging uncried

behind your eye

spun

like silk

by something invertebrate in you

that believes

it still

inhabits a cave

2011-03-30T04:22:00.000-07:00

Ode to an English beach

unable

to decipher
the love letters

sent by your precambrian self

you sit down with a pen
you imagine to be made
from frozen sunbeams
and write:

"consider/your next move with care/to think love and die/might seem pleasant /but/you will inevitably be driven back /into the sea/by a future self//if you see a way out/take it"

you post it to nowhere

the next morning

that never came

2011-03-29T10:22:00.000-07:00

cannibal cooking class # 1

I look into a clock
that is a bird

stuffed
on a mantelpiece

it's wings fluttering
the seconds away
in a suspended afterlife

I have a rash

and dry out
only to ask:

can dust remember dust

2011-03-17T05:47:00.000-07:00

ma jor qui

palma/ the singing belly vs the laughing heart. /santanyi - mondrago/ homes, heavens, mirrored images, rebirth, to roll out on a dragon's tongue made of stone/andratx - sa coma/ the enormous transcendence of a person daring enough to withdraw from it's own creation only to take part in another's /deià/ hymns to jesus sung by donkeys on twisted sugar tops of adoration/fornalutx/ an orange orchard for every gravestone/es capdela – calvia/ people springing out of and overgrowing their prophecies, purity as an egg on a dried-out river bank, or a ball of mud trickling down a stream of painted diamonds/

banyalbufar – sa calobra/ signs pointing to shangri-las eaten by thick layers of fog, time gnawing away at the weathered rocks leaving a garden/formentor/ cliffs orchestrated by goats, beaches left beautiful by the absence of sun-worshippers/magalluf – portals nous/ breathe out and disappear, or reappear, in the image of me riding an electrical bull that is whipped by a sleepwalking audience, car keys rattling as they walk away unecstatically into the night, missing their boats and yachts by just a step, washing up on the before empty beaches smiling, the next day/

2011-03-03T11:28:00.000-08:00

Decorating the core

at the core/ that which is resting at the core/ next to/ nothing
else/ this very thing at the core/ which we need know nothing
about/ that we decorate/ and make up/ to resemble that which
rests outside/ this very thing at the core/ that sparks/
and thinks to be a bonfire/ but also is unknowing/
and wants to know/ nothing/
has begun/ to move/ further in/
to what/

2011-02-26T08:00:00.000-08:00

being begin being

the newspaper is lifted by the passing wind

and emits a tiny flutter

a powerless front page

with no desire to be read

is forced into importance

by the wind

who can't reach the funny pages

without eyes

i am here

by what power am i here

it says

or it is written by the wind

with every breath

2011-02-14T16:55:00.000-08:00

WOLF POEM

head past the wife the man the little one

the brother and sister sleeping the

nightwatchman sleeping the town crier sleeping

go to the fields the woods the clearing

the mountain with the fire tongue the iceberg

head past the country doctor on a routine assignment

the landscapers the forest ranger and the crackling bell tower the rural minimalist painting extinct sunsets at the benefit of readily tired benefactors

the artisans the innkeeper's gluttonous glare

the drunken people sleeping head past the fairy queen dressed as a snail the faun sucking on a dry pipe the rat and the squirrel king fighting arduously over a frozen pea the tempest owl beckoning kisses with it's rotten beak

go to the last ocean the bottomless pond

the empty car park at the end of the land

go to the real wilderness there is no hunger

2011-02-09T12:27:00.000-08:00

all is californian at heart

the waves

racing

and breaking

into white waters on a blank page

must come from another pacific

with entirely different

unaffected cruise ships

careening

into the blank horizons

of forgotten maps

the sea is always satisified

words

trickling down

it's gaping interior

like plancton

drifting into a sunless abyss

only to be swallowed

by a giant whale

unseen

2011-01-25T04:32:00.000-08:00

INVERTEBRAILLE # 1

I turned in my pod

and grew

downwards

into

the vast firmness

of the ground

darkened

by the density of a thousand years

and nursed a pulse

as steady

as an unheard heart

beating in the midst of a river

and curled up in languid roots

unknown

to the very trees

they had spurred into existence

crumpled alphabets

for the defiantly silent

hands

either stretching into the abyss

or lovingly

holding on to it

shadows

not knowing

that they are shadows

the only

answer

a low rustling

like the sound of coal shifting about

in a marvellously forgotten cellar

2011-01-11T03:08:00.000-08:00

See

there are

miracles on display

there are cigar store indians

doing slapstick routines
on
a broken page of history

cracking up somewhere
inbetween
himmler and marconi

not worrying about origins
time
or how much a drink costs
or
what comes after

the laughter dies out

2010-12-23T04:10:00.001-08:00

Skinny dipping in the river of transfiguration

that which is insignificant

will always cling

to that which is enlightened

the fish

escape the sea

the trees

are no longer standing still

we write our lives

on plastic pages

2010-12-21T08:59:00.000-08:00

look future look

were we kids
on those beaches
were our eyes
that young
and the stones

did they
go into
or float on top of
those surfaces

nine, eleven circles undulating

did they dissolve
in
or outside
of what our eyes could see
and

was there anything out there
that could tell us
how far
we had come
and

what it was

that would come after
the oil was gone
from the waters
what

would come after
the kids were gone
from the beaches

2010-12-06T07:02:00.000-08:00

atlantic ocean city

if you allow it

the oceans

will disappear

so that you

can move in

and

erect monumental shopping centres

advertise blue whales

bigger

and better

than the already non-existent

products from ash

and new books

also from ash

on ash

2010-11-05T09:18:00.000-07:00

Truthyeasayer:

Needed:

huge bread basket

anointed child

whole day of good weather

decrease in alligators

slow currents

no signs, no confusion

determination

pre or post-god

ravenous hunger

mediocrity

scented afterlife

2010-10-26T04:04:00.000-07:00

truth and consequence

there is a grain of sand
that grows into vast universes
and every language spoken
every book read
and a word so absolute
and all-encompassing
that it fills every body
to the point of asphyxiation
and ensures that no one speaks it

instead we try to expand
and become open seas
that stretches into blue infinities
so we can swim alongside it
and bask in it's endlessness
but the word becomes an orca
carelessly singing under water
before disappearing
into it's own vastness

so we try to follow
when it strands on a beach
and becomes a girl
that runs away barefoot
and hitches a ride soutwards
we try to stop the driver
but he spins away
and whirls up a dry red sandstorm
leaving nothing
but the dissipating sound of a car horn
a siren singing on a hot summer day

so she becomes a memory
of a word
that once filled every body
to the point of asphyxiation
and could not be spoken

2010-10-21T05:47:00.000-07:00

hesistanza

we travelled for years

and became entirely new

we forgot roads and everything

and became new years babies

ceremonies, half important
forgotten

crazy idolatry
very few remnants
outside loving preconceptions

indentures on maps unwanted

tracks

under the sun we forgot

we travelled for years
and became satellites

caught in dull orbits

long space autumns

stellar crickets chirping
in the DVD version

no spectacular dimensional glitches

no more hyperdrives

"love"

says a gentle voiceover

"they never forgot"

2010-10-14T11:01:00.000-07:00

kill the light before we burn

we're all friendly here

all

why do you run

space is also empty

none is friendly there

all

doesn't matter

mosquitos gets trapped on windshields everywhere

bowling alleys are not lit up by the mind

space is not emptied by your hand

all

doesn't matter

seas are not emptied by your hand

the latest broadcast from space was silent

curling is not a sport

the last message

all

doesn't matter

dreams are not emptied by your hand

you can try

try to empty your hand

nothing grows

it only gets less aggressive

2010-09-15T05:31:00.000-07:00

heart shaped boxing gloves

I am gutting a cod
from an artificial lake

artificial moonlight beaming
from my headlight
onto my very real hands
as I watch the artificial blood
wash away in the quiet surf
of the Baltic sea

now recognisable from sound and darkness alone

sixty-eight mosquito bites on my right foot
seventy-seven mosquito bites on my left

the sea is very real somewhere
as I know you are
very real somewhere
up on the beach
by a waning bonfire

I have a dolphin heart
and two prayers for this dead fish
as I chuck it's head
into the sound and the darkness

one
that it will find some artificial current
and rise again
in an artificial afterlife
two
that our bellies be full
when we find each other
and prepare it on the hot coals

in my hidden prayer
or is it just a premonition
the rampant buzzing
of the frenzied mosquitoes
subside
and give way
to the calm washing of the sea

our dolphin hearts
adjust their beating
to each other
and we listen
and become mystified
by our wondrous humanity
forever

2010-08-17T06:10:00.000-07:00

not another useless poetics

the poem was read
as if it couldn't
be caught

by me
in recess
ca 1991

consequently my hands loosened

and drew the trousers off
a girl
that either wanted to speak
very soft
or very loud

and later made cakes
like they were love letters
with so much sugar (and eggs)
that the poem
could do nothing but connect

2010-07-29T08:09:00.000-07:00

postcards from the Misantropics

I'm seventeen and twentynine(

the original baptismal font from Urnes stave church
is installed on the train between Paris and Budapest
it's the fifteenth oj July 1997
me and twelve other traveling Norwegians in a celebratory mood
wasted on 4 centiliter bottles of aquavit
take turns in filling it with vomit and piss
laughing as loud as possible because the conductor
sounds like a french edition of Harald Mæhle
the original Harald Mæhle
before the dubbing
and the many changes of character began
inbetween the expulsions we sing
so loud
the theme song from "Les Mondes Engloutis"
that everybody is kicked off after Strasbourg somewhere

Paris
we write in our post cards
was never as beautiful as Oslo
that day when King Olav stepped onto the tram
and forgave the rest of the world for being so poor
and disagreeable

but almost

)and an age inbetween running paralell with the tracks

from Stavanger to Oslo
Bergen to Oslo
Oslo to Dombås
SK327 from Oslo to Copenhagen
E47 in direction of Hamburg and Berlin
Ringbahn S41 from Landsberger Allee to Halensee
two fighter planes crossing the blue sky
the cork from a bottle of Prosecco shooting off
seven or eight concentric rings escaping the impact
your perfect legs on a near green patch of grass
your neck (fails description)
leap year
the very richest of the poor
no batteries for the MP3 player
breast strokes in a tiny lake
slowly filling up with books and long poems
submerged and new
clean
ready

2010-07-23T04:16:00.000-07:00

shapedrifters

A man exits a grocery store in Reichenberger Strasse, Berlin. He looks down, and then halfway tilts his head upwards.
He has a half crooked smile and grey hair shining like an electrical fan in the sunlight.

Actually, he looks a lot like Leonard Cohen, entering the stage in Helsingborg one summer afternoon two years ago.
Looking down, and then halfway tilting his head upwards. Greeting the choir girls, who greets him back and send him
kisses from the palms of their hands. He greets the bouzouki player, who looks like a reflection of Cohen in Hydra,
ca 1965. Cohen looks, the bouzouki player looks, Axel Jensen looks, and something disappears only to return. And
the other way around. The sun is almost blue. Cohen greets the audience, and we almost forget to greet him back,
being spellbound by his half crooked smile we instead smile half-crookedly back at him. Respectfully imitating that
which we can not be.

The man in Reichenberger Strasse also greets, half-crookedly, and lifts his phantom hat in salutation, either to me or
some phantom friend just passing by. He takes two steps and halts. I am the audience. He turns and questions the air,

«Did I, did I forget anything?»

Just like Leonard Cohen.

The shop keeper places a hand on the maestro's shoulder, and respectfully asks him, knowing that he is disturbing a
genius at work,

«Excuse me sir, is that your dog tied to that bicycle rack?»

2010-07-10T08:46:00.000-07:00

in echo bay

street smart/corner smart/avenue smart/down the alley smart/road smart/thruway smart/lane smart/fastlane smart/highway smart/autobahn smart/country road smart/50 kmh village road smart/parking lot smart/handicap parking smart/pavement smart/chalked sidewalk smart/hopscotch smart

landing on already crushed bugs in your trophy childhood smart

mother calling smart

mother not calling smart

house smart/door smart/house smart/door smart/house smart/door smart/wait in the car smart/change the radio channel smart/drive smart/sit smart/watch smart/dissipating roads smart/wet from rain street smart/line smart

submarine or catholic smart

the bomb or not the bomb smart/god's mercy smart

god's non-existing mercy smart

humanity smart

nature smart

growth and decomposition smart

you smart

2010-07-01T08:59:00.000-07:00

no thanks for the add

not a wildflower
not something dreamy
wishy-washy all those years ago
not all grown up now
not fulfilled
not a fake ruin
not withering away in a fake garden
not royal piss
not plastic column
not running brook-like
into non-cut grass
not eventful
not uneventful
not becoming true ruins
not becoming ruins of ruins

2010-06-23T04:43:00.000-07:00

paganini's in the hallway, shouting

currently considering final fantasy offer
sparrows halting at brink of exhaustion
currently considering final
breath

and usage

currently considering waste

and an I seeing and something else
with eyes shut
recognizing a stranger
currently considering an introduction

and an I lifting off the receiver
currently considering a reply

hello

currently considering baby steps

and two-headed dogs
one head not acknowleding the other
currently considering decapitation
and building guillotines out of clay
and rain

currently considering hours
well spent
not having a past
or an ageless recollection of a good idea

currently considering blue pens
writing blue skies
for the rest of the day

2010-06-01T17:19:00.000-07:00

i killed leisure suit larry

the eighties never
saw a more persistent vulture
than me

going for that bone
that makes you grow
and think of prophecies

pecking tirelessly
at the tattooed stone
lodged somewhere between
the metal memory

a fork returning on a radiographer's
screen

and barbie's punctured lung

so many words carved
on my tongue
now growing ancient
while i remember

youth

short shorts

bicycles
spinning off rainbows
into persistent futures
hanging
from meat hooks

in gasping auditoriums

2010-05-28T04:10:00.000-07:00

pick a world and become the person who inhabits it

the moon is a great poem to be had
we walk upon her like sharpened pencils
titillating pogo sticks bouncing off
cosmonautic leftovers

the earth is a great poem to be had
and had we not tired so soon
we would surely see her
reposing on the pages
of a very worn book

the ocean is a great poem to be had
and jacques costeau is smiling

the heavens is a great poem to be had
and when we grow real bodies
from real words
she can read us
reading ourselves

---

2010-05-22T01:05:00.000-07:00

eutopia unveiled

my shame extends into historic collages
of glued-together circle jerkers

now i have a thai pussy

rub it

wet nymph limbs

unicornvampire heart

"do you worry about the world?"

the bomb

nuclear frogs nose-diving into empty swimming pools

no systems, no impulses

dead but sexy

2010-05-17T03:30:00.000-07:00

calling all locusts

trapped here, like emotional dead weight, overweight
a pedophile troll under admiralbrucke, perceived as sensational siren by some birds
chanting away, old melodic fairytale

dancing feet rolled up like corn dogs and barely warm, ashes of burnt flags drawing new maps on worn jeans

un-christian territories spattered by unexpected urinal outbursts, the semi-messiah, pee stains and swans gobbling, now ready to try flesh

corals dropping from every sanctified orifice

all ferrymen put to work on clogged canals

coins trapped in sticky pockets

morpheus now morphii, morphed like everything else into everything
abandoned to the heavy salvation of wasted onlookers

looking, surely not into eyes

2010-05-11T06:24:00.000-07:00

almost stalked

remembered
because you once slipped
your tantric fingers
ice cold
under my covers
very unexpectedly
and served me honey blossom kisses
some night
on a ghost train
derailed

2010-05-09T10:20:00.000-07:00

pioneers without a frontier

i have feared this poem

roaming dim corridors
looking for an outstretched
body
a sick mattress

desperate to inject itself
into a functional vein
and find hiding
in already poetry-ridden
arteries

"the last hit"

is the name it bears
and it goes like this

"there once was a man..

there once was a man.."

2010-04-22T03:23:00.000-07:00

ancient epicurating

you are almost
made of stone
i am almost
made of stone

without arms

we roll against each other
in a museum

waiting

for antique ejaculations

2010-04-06T04:51:00.000-07:00

librarian's lament

why not listen

to the
tear drops

hanging on for dear life

to your almost
forgotten eye

2010-03-19T11:58:00.000-07:00

how to say why, what

you can't reach into that
which becomes more
in it's past
than in it's future

norway, soon
those old sagas
will be fossilized
and we shall read them again

black tinted scrolls

our very skin

the oil became flesh
the flesh became a cry
the foxes shivered under ground
and grew antlers
out of confusion

languages came and went
some books were canonized

2010-03-12T07:47:00.000-08:00

são paulo, truth or dare

kids on ghosted bicycles
storm past the lemon glare of Lula
and the Samsung blue tinted smile
of what's-his-face
into prosperous nights of sweet scented sugar popcorn
and lamplights long forgotten
singing
guns 'n' roses hits
to the steel raven
flapping
it's nationwide wings somewhere
in the black smog
in the darkened diners
and the taxi driver's petrol stained havens

"john carpenter was here"

a hooker's uniform
resting on a window sill
turns catlike
under the crescent nothingness of a moon
too shameful
to bare it's skin

a murder of helicopters in it's place
exuding lifelike whispers
to skyscrapers
wet with rain
still
dancing
that tired old jig
taught
by centuries of junkies
hopped up on capitalism

2010-02-12T08:36:00.000-08:00

telephone-sex on a dimly lit expressway

there is so much
to be said

under the erupting volcanoes

but nothing really
to deafen the cries
of creation

2010-01-29T07:29:00.000-08:00

short poems dedicated to suicidal seagulls

speak to the head of the triptych

say

what do you know
about brothers and sisters

what did erupting into meaning
give you
of beauty

other than
short gasps

and billows of
bad breath

---

giant squids

so hard to find

so easily left behind

2010-01-22T03:59:00.000-08:00

the sun is up for entertainment purposes only

1

jumpstarted

into adventure

unwanted

by christlike tiger

on frozen lake

no toes

2

gypsy women singing

about gypsy women

singing

about gypsy women singing

somewhere in new york

2010-01-11T10:45:00.000-08:00

phosphorescent sea babies

it's not hard to imagine harder times

new desires maybe

it's not hard to imagine another imagination

free of desire maybe

white clouds
whatever latin name they bear
not shaping into your sex

or your mouth and your sex

like a bag of cocaine laid out
in beautiful patterns
somewhere in the sky

to make me think of you

behind squinting eyes
and with an imagination
i imagine

that will never bring anything
better than this

2010-01-08T08:08:00.000-08:00

summer memory from the Hardanger fjord

none of us
are split in half

none of us
are split in half

rowing boats
reeking of sex

and platonic solids

2010-01-05T10:33:00.000-08:00

bomb night

the concrete melted

to deprive
every standing thing

of it's shadows

remains of whole families
would fit

in a red wheel-barrow

2009-12-30T09:57:00.000-08:00

JET SLAG

there used to be so much forest
and snow

earlier

bordering a huge
naked rock

used condoms ebbing
and flowing

resembling tiny seal pups
listening
to

a different earth

between the legs of
a different universe

2009-12-23T08:02:00.000-08:00

record prayer, blessed up

as the bored
attach themselves
to the enlightened

the fish escape the sea

2009-12-21T07:20:00.000-08:00

"WHEN THE TIME COMES TO LEAVE, JUST WALK AWAY QUIETLY AND DON'T MAKE ANY FUSS"

-banksy

2009-12-18T02:08:00.000-08:00

be a museum, and preferably an egyptian one, and preferably one containing tons of statues of isis and osiris

it's not necessarily humanity
that comes first
maybe doom
an all-devouring lust
doom
your feet wrapped around my neck
doom
and extacy
doom
and that
which makes you love and persist
and drift away in human happiness

not knowing
like a sparkling leaf in autumn
not knowing

not caring

doom and not doom

a sparkling leaf in autumn

2009-12-13T11:33:00.000-08:00

after the singing: echoes and reverberation. then, finally, peace in the cave.

of course you are right
saying that JEIN is the only word
needed to speak german

and that TENGO GUAPAS will suffice
in spanish

such is history also

charles darwin shadowboxing
while walls

crumble, around him

and we'll retreat
to a room
where, finally

we can talk

2009-12-08T10:50:00.000-08:00

one-man discoteque

i was really

becoming

well-read

from studying the

atlantis-like wort, sinking

into

my forehead

2009-12-06T06:58:00.000-08:00

Rainbow paraplegic

not funny

serious

not funny

serious

powder keg eyes

(also: new year's eve and who to dance with. and: new year's eve and who to dance with)

not funny

comic book personality

serious, not funny, serious, comic book personality

sending postcards from a ballroom
in the belly of a whale

tap dancing. hardly any echoes

2009-12-03T10:41:00.000-08:00

2

skinless

I asked you
to accept my nature

your skeleton

went over to the bar
and shook it's bones

it was over

---

fined

for hanging around, waiting

for poems

2009-11-30T08:33:00.000-08:00

staying tuned

listen
to the pessimists

saying

that everything's
already been said

by other pessimists

2009-11-29T08:23:00.000-08:00

YESTERDAY; ANYTIME

moons travelled backwards, inwards, hid, forgot
bodies stretched backwards, inwards, hid, forgot
caravans continued backwards, inwards, hid, forgot
faces grew everywhere, on everything, sang and spat
mouths formed everywhere, on everything, sang and spat

moons

faced down in puddles, under rocks

2009-11-27T10:52:00.000-08:00

stay in the glass
there is nothing

outside

except
abandoned glass

2009-11-24T09:39:00.000-08:00

HEARTS # 7

conceptual heart

this heart is invisible/and I give it to you
all I want
is for you/to throw it
and write a letter of apology
to the person or country
where it lands

2009-11-24T09:32:00.001-08:00

HEART # 6

hearts never know
said ringo starr of the beatles
knowing, something
that used to be secret
before ringo starr knew

2009-11-21T04:36:00.000-08:00

HEART # 5

hearts were in style/when I was young/you could
take one/you could take one/hearts were in abundance/
when I was young/looking out of windows/judging/
like hearts do/other hearts/heartily/and the other
hearts/looking back/from across the street/you
could pick a fight/you could pick a fight/with hearts/
when I was young/and the heart would win/and
another heart would win/hearts were in abundance/
when I was young/they would fall out/from sixth floor
windows/and land accomplished/on the roofs of
expensive cars/shouting bloody hallelujah/if
they could/hearts/when I was young

2009-11-18T04:27:00.000-08:00

HEART #4

fictitious heart

I've had hearts/ believe in hearts/ I've had hearts/ believe in hearts
I heard hearts singing/ I heard hearts singing/ in the aloe vera grove
with jupiter voices/ jupiter voices/ hearts coagulating/ rotting

can this heart be a little more festering/ can it be a little more rat-like
can this heart be judged/ or obscured/ ridiculed by passions
condemned/ unheard/ tried/ in the aloe vera grove
moon/ moon/ sky/ jupiter/ rabbit/ turtle/ fox
fox voices breaking/ fox aeterna/ fox populi

I've had hearts/ believe in hearts

2009-11-17T05:31:00.000-08:00

HEART # 3

hearts
relax
in hearts
never thought of
by hearts
that never
relax

2009-11-15T05:24:00.000-08:00

HEART # 2

jungles collapse
in star systems
collapsed
in tiny universes
collapsed
in minds
collapsed
in hearts
collapsed

2009-11-11T06:45:00.000-08:00

HEART # 1

what holds on to your heart
what holds on to your idea of your heart
what snake

ERASE

what sun

ERASE

pan cakes
deep desert skies
what

ERASE

huge choppers flied in
from outer space
what space

ERASE

heart

ERASE

2009-10-28T08:50:00.000-07:00

how I celebrated the CNN reporting that todays breaking news were: NO BREAKING NEWS:

I plunged onto the streets
and grabbed an unknown man
what country are you from
what country are you from
"I am from.."
can it be bought
can it be bought
the man dropped to the ground
and turned into a turtle shell
I picked it up
and wore it as a hat
for the remainder of the day

2009-10-28T05:37:00.000-07:00

how I dwelled in delicate torture and ended up a smiling and delightful human being:

I carried that torch
you saw me carrying that torch
that torch, how I carried it
from Olympus to Olympus
that flame, never dwindling
as columns of stone underneath me
fell into ruins
we share our doubts
don't we
how do we persist
block upon block
in tiny apartments
with scared cats
scuttling under beds for shelter
crouching
beneath my cerulean heart
can you hear those mythological mountains
crumbling
skies and bodies
skies and bodies
how familiar it sounds
to my clear blue cerulean heart

2009-09-30T07:29:00.000-07:00

Dr Platonius, charged with unicorn fuel and ostrich feathers
Dr Feather, uncharged, Lacrimosus, horned
Dr Horn, the end
Dr End, when can i see my body, the assassin
Dr Body, Con Gusto, unavailing, heavy rays from Jupiter, Europa
Dr Europa, moon shaped tumors, new maps, Chimaera, Jersey, Guadalcanal
Dr Map, unwarranted building of gardens, holy displays, tired cattle

what once was stampeding
what was stampeding
wavering straws
unicorn dust

pretty flowers
why not

2009-09-28T10:05:00.000-07:00

two. four.

apparently
the final hour has come

again

i'm standing in the hallway
lecturing
a wavering light

because

the dishes are piling up
and the milk
is close to expiring

2009-09-17T09:29:00.000-07:00

long unintended poem dedicated to will oldham, the actor

*

forced into this

of course you are forced into this

how well you know me

by now

we both have answers

i make you do this

i make you copy this, write this, use this

you're actions are long since my actions

i know you

i force you into this

i hope you will last

you can not give up

you know this

we are forced into this

what we do in life echoes in mediocrity

did you think we were powerless

---

how long did we travel
to tell this story

i know we sent postcards, do you remember
the glaciers

how do we remember importance

one spring

our feet were not shaking

---

did i promise myself

to be here

---

hovering now

like a mystic yogi

over a burnt pizza

---

we just need alcohol

to finish this poem

there was a universe

i am sure we know everything about it

we just need alcohol

to prove it

---

we're being crazy

i know

suburban

green

don't give a fuck

---

i was head over heels

at one point

but the girl got lost

i got lost

the poem got lost

bloodhounds, senseless

only screams would persist

head over heels

at some point

---

still here to haunt you

oliver reed

in the shape of a pear

or christopher lee
the old dracula

with sponsored teeth

high on ketamine

no refunds what so ever

---

do dogs

ever catch that branch

that will tell them

stories

in branch words

translated in dog teeth language

tons of humans

left longing

for explanations

---

cafeterias

estranged by contact

humanity

dragged across the counters

in an unbearable shelling

---

just remember

all these things before

knowledges

idolatry

boredom

---

youth

i have an idea

---

we're selling oil

i know oil

oil knows me

it knows you too

it is heaven

a beautiful buick

we'll make it in time

---

let's give something back to the community

something special

let's give something back to the community

a jesus

or another jesus

---

i put you on to this

we shouldn't trust my dreams

but here we are

i put you on to this

these are dreams

don't you recognize torn wings

---

even though you can't imagine it

your bearded smile

hides nothing more

than a bearded smile

---

2009-09-15T09:40:00.000-07:00

fortyseven.

(tombstone. final)

friends

is time

ruined

2009-09-10T09:25:00.000-07:00

fortyfive.

have you seen the beast
with rose-colored cheeks (early in the morning convincing you
you can stretch your humanity)
have you seen the beast
with rose-colored cheeks (lying about the solidity of words)
have you seen the beast
with rose-colored cheeks (in the winter white mountain pass creeping
up to leonard cohens cowl whispering coyly or snow white
blinding leonard you haven't really penetrated anybody
have you seen the beast
with rose-colored cheeks (in the artificial waterfall as a woman
or a rare and beautiful animal a shiny unicorn before it
dissolves in the thunder of the broken water pipes)
have you seen the beast
with rose-colored cheeks (saying wait I'll be right there)
have you seen the beast
with rose-colored cheeks (I saw it in a fractured glass and read
it's lips "half of peace and liberty is chaos and destruction")
have you seen the beast
with rose-colored cheeks (the stranger you suspect will take
you home)

2009-09-02T14:14:00.000-07:00

thirtyfour.

(the beginning of an endless poem)

who asks the waves
to hold on
or the earth
to stop shivering

with desperation

and tears

while you are

spooning

and cannot
sleep

2009-08-24T01:39:00.000-07:00

twentytwo.

like nature
it's time
to close your eyes
there will be no more
real children
only bitter, old men
inhabiting tiny skeletons
spending an eternity
dying

2009-07-31T09:09:00.000-07:00

seven.

somewhere, there is a poem free of reference
but it is not this one, thus it refers to itself
somewhere, there is a poem free of reference
but it is not this one, thus it refers to itself

[pause]

repeat first verse

[pause]

repeat first verse

2009-07-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

excerpt from page #35

[..]what is the general lifespan of a shock? is it now the loveless, and again, the faces, carrying the loveless respiration? who's the hyena? who imagines a loveless face? I know I do, and tell the tale believing that the loving face will be restored, like Jesus the Fairytale Queen was brought into existence, waving his magic wand around our nations shopping malls. accused of pedophilia and loitering. holding a typewriter to the sky, "cursed be these missing letters!"

relief, and a different story. where do the words go?

could I still convey my thoughts to you, even if there was a rare mismatch between thought and expression? would it be ok? if you treated it like a puzzle, and knew that I was indifferent to the the way you jigsawed it around, that I am content with you trying? asking someone to waste their time, is asking a lot.

look at the hyena with it's jagged teeth, throwing belly-roaring laughter left and right, could you for a moment suspend the image of me?[..]

[..]what if this ends, and the loveless faces are the ones passing judgment? the hyena, smirking like never before, making sure to also turn this into a staring contest. who would ever dream of looking away?[..]

2009-06-26T10:16:00.000-07:00

excerpt from an undated page

[..] in the bar hangs a moose head with clawed out eyes. underneath it rests fourteen bamboo sticks. I fail to see the connection.

every time I want to light a cigarette I order a tequila. every time I want to order a tequila I light a cigarette. I note that I am balanced.

the outstretched female stomach rises from the floor and hisses between old teeth. I, who never evade reality, give birth to traumas in the midst of innocent dreams. I take a hint, and roll off the bar stool and tumble underneath the pool table.

I look up into the guillotine. to be is to become. I close my eyes and hear an iceberg calving. nine ball hits corner pocket. this is where desire is beheaded.

the inhuman, again made human.

the bartender calls for a cab. or in his words, a rather large pumpkin[..]

2009-06-16T09:11:00.000-07:00

those brutal hands

this will end me

I thought it was silent
till it went silent

how have you inspired this pain?

I've never understood
what it is I'm not supposed to feel
like a bird on the wing in a swollen sky
my mind is torn by lightning
as it flies from the thunder behind

From Sarah Kane's 4:48 Psychosis

Because it is beautiful, and well worth remembering when you're having your regular 4:48 tea & typewriter sessions.

2009-06-03T09:19:00.000-07:00

paper # 9, berlin, (..) march 2009

i'm stuck

and i don't know how to change that

stuck

a terrible word, when you hear it. or write it. it is one of those few words of absolute self-fulfillment, completely wrapped around itself, so that when you say "stuck", or write "stuck", it is stuck

stuck

my tongue tastes of cold steel when i'm stuck. which is strange, since that sense of being able to taste cold steel, is something ephemeral i've always related to my childhood. sticking my tongue out to taste my grandfather's reaper. or my uncle's hunting rifle. also my father's shaving-knife. all these secrets concerning cold steel that would never be revealed. are they my secrets? how and why do i remember them? once in a while; something uncertain, a brush of unbearable nostalgia, so unreal, but present, so alive. the tongue, scraped, it must be something else, the tongue, so anesthetized by strawberries, or insect bites

i roll one of my father's cigarettes, even though he stopped smoking ten years ago. i need this one, i have been dreaming about this smoke. i have always been looking at this pack of tobacco, with unbearably nostalgic eyes. now, ten years later, even though you stopped, i roll one

your judging eyes, i could almost change my mind

what should i say in your funeral? should i hold it against you, and disclose to everyone how cheap you are? how common? and how can i actually tell you how much you mean to me?

i'm stuck. i ran out of words just as, just AS, they were about to come, just before, right now. my words for you, your words. and i know that i'm talking about myself, that this is totally unfair, that i actually mean me, and my words for me, that it is one word, and that it is inverted, and written on a loose tongue, somewhere around where i grew up

and it holds more than my language

despite your advice, none of the girls would go to bed with me, or fuck, or kiss and hug or however it now was. i went to youth club after youth club, and i still do, go to youth club after youth club, only now, and this is different, i operate on arenas where i always win. too old now for fantasies and dreams. and insecurities.

and this: running for my life through boiling blood. and this: the nervous passion that brings it to the boiling point

stuck

stuck in idolatry and remnants from dreams, stuck in the sleeping, stuck in the waking

stuck, and surely not stuck

2009-05-25T05:56:00.000-07:00

"Over and over again I fall asleep with my eyes open, knowing I'm falling asleep, unable to prevent it. When I fall asleep this way, my eyes are cut off from my ordinary mind as though they were shut, but they become directly connected to a new, extraordinary mind which grows increasingly competent to deal with their impressions."

Charles Lindbergh, writing about the twenty-second hour of his transatlantic flight in The Spirit of St. Louis

2009-05-22T06:03:00.000-07:00

a sort of answer to neil addison based on an answer to me.

--

before the band comes in/ [poem long forgotten]/ the sequential oscillation of a spoon in a cup/ staring at the poem by NA, and now, instead of shifting, or coercing, or twisting, try linedancing your way towards a response/ leave all past behind

great stones cracking in blurred memories

leave all memory, prepare for that which is coming

what is coming?

leave all fear of what is coming/ the past is coming

memory too

isolate the cradle/ the helpless man, from an album of ghosts, is coming/ nothing survives on intention alone/ tear a horn off some gazelle, and show him a unicorn

memory too

travelled so far, no postcards to mum

2009-05-20T03:56:00.000-07:00

paper # 20, the bus from rissani to fes, the 1st of may

desert sand, desert animals, desert men, desert sounds, desert talk, desert laughter, desert stories, desert pride, desert joy, desert knowledge, desert chronology, desert causality, desert darkness, desert wells, desert light, desert drums, desert fatigue, desert realities, desert stars, desert cold, desert wool, desert dreams, desert friendship, desert languages, desert confusion, desert compromises, desert dephts, desert drugs, desert tourism, desert wine, desert interests, desert bliss, desert piss, desert wind, desert lamps, desert egalité, desert coke, desert directions, desert liberty, desert choice, desert help, desert shadows, desert life, desert sand

desert whales

the white whale of the desert

to me, a cringing desert brick, a 300 meter high, unattainable dune of sand, to the desert berber an unattainable european kiss, a shag in paris, baguettes in the morning, desertless desert dreams

shameless desert illusions

desert hubris

the over-heated sunbed of the desert, no rational thought outside instinct

the heroes of the desert, jimi hendrix, bob marley and some football player, every other sentence uttered in their praise, the dromedars bearing their names

every little thing's gonna be allright

desert rye, desert tea, desert coffee, desert jam, desert bread, desert bugs and flies, desert time, desert patience, desert paralysis, desert will, desert gait, desert kneefall, desert heat, desert water, desert games, desert sounds, desert laughter, desert salutations, desert fraternities, desert drawings, desert tea, desert bugs and flies, desert sand

don't you worry 'bout a thing/every little thing's gonna be allright

the white whale of the desert, the broken harpoon of the desert, the artificial galleon of the desert, the flying kick of the desert in the pointless motion picture of the desert

the jean-claude van damme of the desert in the book of the desert written by the william s burroughs of the desert on the black typewriter of the desert

desert faith, desert hope, desert doubt, desert gods, desert devils, desert crucifixes, desert churches, desert minarets, desert fast, desert sins, desert commandments, desert covenants, desert sacrifices, desert answers, desert sand

every little thing's gonna be allright

2009-05-18T07:24:00.000-07:00

tiergarten biergarten

all papers are lawfully reduced to ashes in

the great incinerator

a pen

another pen

another pen