We are the winners,

all we don't know is listed --


in our manual.

Thin sounds, far away,

from the small strawberry fields --


inside the teapot.

She bends over, her buttocks on show
while she puts her shoes away
She never looks through the window

I never can make contact with her
across the street and expose
me and my desire

It is hot, it's blowing so hot
through the city that I would leave
space in between us, caress her

only lightly, not lie against her
and first put out the light
or close the curtains, with a *****

by the window, happy to lie
awake from the heat, next to her
close to her body

People only change

when someone else forces them --


They can't change themselves.

Taking a deep breath:

there is space, calm, sometimes joy --


It's the real nectar.

I lived happily,

comfortably in the blue --


big egg of heaven.

I slept like a bean

in the pod of my car, in --


my cradle, my egg.

Yet his pessimism

does cheer us up in some way --


it's quite laughable!

The music can't go

bad, so everyone enjoys --


beating his heart out.

The speech is followed

by silent applause, the hands --


just raise the glasses.

We can indeed laugh

at ourselves, the two of us --


if nobody knows.

In empty places in the city
I stop for a while to see
if something is there anyway

Because attention must
be lead away from what you want
to keep unseen, like

God being unknowable, dressed
in the universe and hidden
under the invisibility cloak

of a religion, that gaudy
robe of customs
and holy words

Just like voids
they show nothing, just the nothing
if that existed

And yet I pay attention
whether something is noticeable
of the secret of everything

Spring, time to go out!

Although winter is nicer:


not all those people!

Receiving distant

sounds with giant ears, I get --


smaller and smaller.

Beyond the ideas

of we and they is a field --


where I wait for you.

Perfect images,

captured, just for a moment --


Already passed by.

The sun goes down and

comes up again, endlessly --


I lived, as a child.

Finished, desk empty,

there's nothing on it at all --


just my lower arms.

I play this ballad

every day, it's the tuning --


fork of my spirit.

New Year, once again

things remain the same as I --


experienced them.

A black word is quick;

it strikes irrevocably --


and right in the heart.

Young people are poor thinkers
You must first feed them

on the fruits of that one
special tree of knowledge

of what is useful and detrimental
before they know anything

and once they get that
they understand

that it is the way it has to be
if one doesn't want to remain a paradise child

for whom everything must be ready
in a world without dangers

What is detrimental to that, is good
for humanity, although it is a pity

that many adults do not continue to eat
the fruits of that tree

Seducing someone

to want to go to hell, that --


is really subtle.

I'm just pretending

when I go to sleep again --


as if you are there.

Wherever I stay,

the trees from home keep growing --


growing in my heart.

Going for a walk,

mama says: "Mouth shut!", so scared --


that I will get sick.

She's looking outside,

but still, does she see the view --


our beautiful view?

Nowhere can it be

safe anymore, look: adults --


too can cry a lot!

I like to do it

in the spotlight. Do you think --


I'm looking at you?

Dad doesn't say who is

the most beautiful woman:


Your mother of course!

I don't stay on the side
I like to go together, get to know
people, have confidence, share
share my life, I look
for contact and butter up
anyone who can help me

It's you who I lure closer, who I lead
to chinks which I smooth
with butter honey, slowly
I pull you through
your shirt against me
to feel that you are there

You want to, but also you don't
so you get hot and take
the shirt off from the top
(I always take the bottom)
Half naked you run away
from your expectations

He eats well, just look,

my phalanx fits easily --


in his navel hole.

In the maze city

people bounce around, always --


they will meet again.

The fluctuating

flood-mark, a boundary of --


dry seaweed flowers.

Please be sensible!

If all the girls are gorgeous,


let someone else drive.

The actor knows what

it's all about: pretending --


you're really human.

Who are you, you elusive
mermaid in my story
of desire and boredom?

My story, my story
of shipwreck and beach
beach, beach, pebble beach

Washed ashore, thirsty
and shivering of exhaustion
awakened by the hot sun

Beach, beach, pebble beach
washed ashore, delirious
from hunger and alone
all alone with you

dancing in the waves of the sea
the sea, the sea, the waving sea
and my story, only my story

is sailing past this beach
beach, beach, pebble beach
mama, mama, grandma

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday
Thursday, Friday, I'm doing my best
come soon, soon, don't leave me alone

Travel like a tree,

as if I'm always at home --


The world's coming past.

One day you will learn

everything you pursued was --


never possible.

The world keeps turning
no matter whether
we understand
that everything is
connected to us

I watch
from the scenery
gently strumming
tears on my guitar

The floor is *****
There are no residents
Everyone is busy
with other things
and passes by love

I watch
from the scenery
gently strumming
tears on my guitar

Friends have the power

of repeating together --


what they are good at.

I ring the door with

my handbell and I'm welcome --


because it's mý bell.

Our conversations

are silent conversations --


There is no anger.

Birthday: the sweetest


I have goes, with the sweetest --



I had, my darlings.

Dad did it unnoticed
I was his princess
he fulfilled all my wishes
and I had no suspicion

We moved to France
I didn't have much to do
besides my lessons, enough
time for Eddie, a nice boy

I had the age
and suddenly it went fast
the engagement, the secret
of the rings, tailor, hairdresser

and then finally the wedding
Afterwards, I asked questions
Mama taught me that there is more
than the things that happen to us

more than what goes wrong
between people, we walked
away from the men
and counted our blessings

Very puzzling is

the miscellaneous news:


Hów did it happen?

My heart is not smiling
my eyes are watchful
I am a chameleon

From my cave, I crawl
cautiously through my life
wet when it rains

arid when the sun burns
shy under the leaves
when the masters go by

who don't want to see me
their eyes don't smile
it is a game

that doesn't make me happy
I dream chameleon dreams
of a smooth, uniform skin

that can always be the same
I dream of shedding my skin
that way for once, like a snake

It is code language,

cipher: Zjellwe zjoh zjouvezj?


Shall we go to bed?

My darling is gone
the earth pushes tidal
tears up through the sand

sails in the east
round me, signs
upon them, I walk

for miles
to spartina and seepweed
and fro to the beacon

build a stone tower there
break stone for stone
read word for word, listen

and build writing and
singing sentence for sentence
our love again

The majority

will want to live frugally --


when it is too late.