When I am old will this river know my name,
when I am old will the sky remember me,
who walked in spring and winter without aim,
who dove into the currents for the sea

When I am old will the forest harbour me,
when I am old will the grass regret
how I walked across its back so tenderly,
or will they too grow old and so, forget?

it is a long time since the sun shone in long and low

like that, says the bear.



does this mean it is spring now? it is such a pretty

room.



yellow.

Out of and into
my body, my breath, open
Receiving and emanating

the sun, healing as a saint
is whole in the truth
of his experience

a healed mind
in a healthy body
warm and warming

Offering
of flowing energy
knowing its way

and having no aim
only
only wishing to flow

from you to me
and from me to you
where we are open

I don’t owe my beauty to men.
The perky *******, the toned thighs—
they weren’t sculpted for your gaze.
Manicured nails, clean hair—
none of this is yours.

I don’t owe my beauty to me, either.
Look at me.
Ruin,
in the shape of a woman
you once claimed to love.

It doesn’t feel like my skin anymore.
It reeks—
of broken dreams
and promises whispered too close.

Look at me
ruin what you claimed was beautiful.
I hide behind my brother’s shirts.
I disappear into crowds,
like a shadow pretending to be whole.

My body stings
where your hands have been.
Every inch now
wrapped in a blanket of thorns.

Now—
do you love me the same?
Can you find the rose
that is dying
to bloom?

The night sings,
through the foggy glow of streetlamps.
The lethargy of emotions floats
in the street’s dark alley.

She came to take away the questions
never spoken,
and now I think of myself,
of the world,
of those who cannot sleep
in this nocturne time.

It would be easier to rise above
and cast soothing words.
Much harder to endure
like a thought shut in a tin
that escapes at last
when water appears.

I meant well,
Yet it slipped away from human logic.
That is why on many nights
I tear out hours, minutes,
to write what I feel.

Autumn is in the air.
Morning light reveals
golden-green shades,
slowly entering red.

In memory glows the smile
of summer landscapes,
of heat,
of promises unfulfilled
that fade with the light.

Today, everything falls into thought
like gossamer on ploughed ground.
So much beauty there is.
How could I live
without metaphors?

To call things by their names,
not to drown in longings,
not to color them,
to make shapes less painful?

Autumn has come.
I float between breaths.
I don’t know what will come.
I only know I write
in the silence of this night,
in search of lost time
more precious than sleep,
than stillness,
than a brief dream.

Swollen fingers, fevered head,
Pressure and tearing of purple veins.
Pills, side effects,
All this pain to join this living race.

The peloton far, far ahead,
And here I climb a slick *****,
Thinking: I can’t manage,
I don’t cope anymore.

Bills sharpen, sharky credits circle,
No funds to stand upright.
Sweaty forehead, stomach clenched.
How good that with a smile,
Still carrying a tender, loving heart inside.

It does not matter where I was placed,
What name I bear, where I am from.
I am with myself 24 hours a day,
No vacations from endless thought.

With words I cut,
I healed what was ash,
Waiting for redemption
Even if I failed a thousand times.

I recognize myself in every human face:
In tightened lips and widened pupils.
As much tenderness as cruelty,
As many warm nights as skies of lead.

I have never wanted to be a false saint
Only tangible punched letters on the page
Still scrubbing my scrawled future
And hope that tomorrow
I can do it just a little
better.

hands clasped
in color

the leaves spin
in cotillion

ash
and ginko twinge

green
to gold

it is not
so much

that i miss you

Five in the morning
Is the best time
When I’m yawning
To sit outside
And look up to the stars
Pluto Venus mercury mars
And all the other pretty stars
Twinkle down at me
It’s so beautiful and I’m lucky to see
The mysteries of the sky
And all the things that we can see!
I’m grateful of!
Then when the Dawn starts to come
And the sun is rising
The sky is a beautiful colour
And the clouds are amazing
It paints a picture of delight
When morning comes and goes the night!