A man falls over,

luckily I can't see more --


There are bystanders.

If I only have love
when I meet you
I have everything

to exist
to say
and be safe

If I am love
I can bear death
and the pain, my tears

flow around
the world and together
we can be happy

The little plant bends

with the sun and the wind, blooms --


as much as it can.

Kissing I slide down

over his tongue into his --


soul, and feel his fear.

Sarcophagus earth

eats the flesh, the bones remain --


and airy shadows.

What are the answers

to the difficult questions --


I can ask myself?

Grandpa looks at me,

I feel that he loves me, but --


who is he really?

My heart knows no stopping
it pulls through

within the trinity of time
from the green beginning
of my fate, getting myself
on my feet

with passion and jumping back
into the stream of experiences
swimming a stroke every now
and then, drifting along a little

and letting a lot pass by
beauty and cruelty
waves of feelings and
caresses of life

under the foam of my consciousness
the white soul of time

In all its colours,

life keeps unfolding in us --


deep within our soul.

It's too bad, that we

can't stop it, but later we --


shall commemorate.

We argue about

the right words for "it", which must --


stop without delay.

There is no service,

the terrace serves us itself --


As a meeting place.

Above the trees flows

the water to the city --


In the blazing sun.

Another day
of manoeuvring
in the holy triangle
of languor, passion and harmony

In my blood, lethargy is floating
lazily along banks and jetties
It lies down
in the signal boxes

of my muscles and mood
as the prey of the fighters
who ignore the night
to make a party

of my life, now or never
to participate, out of desire
for happiness
that is short-lived

Life is smelling, it's

tasting, seeing, and being --


able to respond.

A car stops, because

I'm standing at the window --


and yes, I can come.

Goodness is steady,

beauty is fleeting, it lasts --


the blink of an eye.

I undress voluntarily
The assistants lead me
to the middle

into the half-dark circle
of curious students who
search for the connection

between my bare legs
and the light swell
of my white shirt

I lower my eyes
and follow the instructions
of the professor

as if I see myself
in a film, turning around
in the circle

of light
of attention
of thin voices

To be healed I want

to be in the hospital --


to be an object.

I don't understand

what I feel, maybe I am --


amazed at your love.

Forty, I still have hope
The glands in my ******* engorge
the desire, with big eyes

I bounce between decency
and groping, tripping
over crooked paving stones

spying for an opportunity
Where is my husband now
that I need him

to go for me?
Doesn't he smell my need?
I pull up a leg

my wrap skirt falls open
Half-hidden my butterfly
the promise of my powder puff

Hips are everything

between them, the flowering --


of the human soul.

In nice clothes I wait

and await, it takes so long --


before you touch me.

He loves the *****,

and sometimes, I go with him --


to sit there thinking.

People want rocks
build their lives on them
Houses that last

People want to hammer
their existence in memories
that last

People don't want to be nameless
but the name Love
will do

People want to believe
in the people
they need

People want to believe
in the power
of their dreams

Are we wonderful,

are we building great houses --


of love together?

Inside the big clock,

time is moving, pushed forward --


by two road sweepers.

In the many books

that I like, I never read --


anything that's new.

Touching with caution
warmth upon warmth
kissing hairs

nails very softly
in circles and strokes
across your back

Everything safe, breathe
Falling asleep dreamlessly
and still know it

Whatever the day was like
whatever tomorrow's
program is: caressing hand

happy back
buttocks kiss
the warm belly

In Spain 'I' is: el

corazón, and 'happiness':


dos corazones.

Antivertising art:

an advertising column --


that is a mirror.

Do you understand,

or should I turn the drawing --


into a ******?

It is getting dark, we walk
away from the couples, who, just like us
have not seen the sun go down

The picnic baskets are empty
You pack up the peels and I
pretend to look past you and you

pretend I don't attract
your attention, knowing that
our skin is glowing for more
You are smoothly sculpted
like a Greek god

I brush through your hair
The sea moans under the rocks
Our room is still far away

but I can imagine you
hanging out nicely, kneadable
in the grip of my hand

I see her peeping,

she looks back to me and then --


we are both ashamed.

I do feel peaceful,

however, in my longing --


I can't sleep at all.

Loosened from the ropes,

the bells are chiming around --


in their ecstasy.

When waking up
from my sleeplessness
I am tired

of the task
to create
a new past
anyhow

grafted onto
who I have been
with a family
and a mother
who knew me

to create
a second life
under a sun
bright enough

to warm me
and bleach
the shadows

Destruction, and then

the dust settles, the wind blows --


Of a new era?

He sniffs, grazing
he comes closer
Only the birds watch

Warm breath explores
the skin of my desire
I smell what it does to him

Carefully he licks me
I let go of the world
My body trembles

in my consciousness, nameless
in his eyes, this is real
Not romance

The pleasant strangeness

of your body, that body --


going its own way.

More bicycles here

than houses, that makes sense, but --


where are the people?

Empty waiting rooms

in the hospital, no one --


will become ill here.

Ouch, I fall down the

mountain, getting up hurts, I --


feel like a winner.

On the train, I rest.

The longer the journey, the --


more rested I am.

Everything is different, I am
really alive now, my friend laughs
Really, I dream

that the earth stands still
and the roses keep blooming
My nights are full

of expectation
and I will be saved
whenever it storms

No more accounts
of the benefits
of the doubts

about the future
of the world
and myself

Romance has no

boundaries: everyone and --


everything is love!

As if I mocked him
or Love, so wounded
he dreams me

on swift legs
a doe-woman
without bow and arrow

graceful, and shy
slender, and modest
wise, but a woman

subject
to his desire
to possess

my desires
sharp in view
as I run, longingly

looking at him, panting
entangled in his hands
until he is satisfied

I like to be soft,

but hard enough to resist --


the worldly hardness.

The sun wakes me right

in my face: impossible!


Is the earth tilted?

The movie actress

sits on horsehair, you see it --


because she feels it.