Some poetry

A sample of my poetry, very irregularly updated.

hagigrund polka
(my summer cottage is on an island called hagigrund)

gulls and grebes! ’tis the end of june,
i’m woken up to a dulcet tune.
i drink my tea, then eat fondue
on chairs from nineteen-thirty-two.

a hearty breakfast never killed!
before too long my pail is filled
with last night’s catch in fishing nets:
seaweeds, algae, old regrets.

mosquito, spider, rum and oar,
there be dragon(flie)s and more!
muddy waters, clear dawn air,
a sea of tea cups, rags to wear.

i bathe in water from the roof.
the rusty shoe from someone’s hoof
above the door brings luck, i’m told.
high up, an eagle soars. i’m sold.

dusk arrives with smoke and song,
midnight sun casts shadows long.
slowly flowing windows tell
how time here passes – in a spell.

my eyelids droop, i make a den.
until the tune begins again –
i dance this dance that’s never done
laughing, naked, in rain and sun!

reading kafka in the bath

my glasses fog up, but i keep on reading.
the pages slowly softening in my hands
deliver a smell of old age and novelty.
i hear my pulse slow down. slow down. slow is it that we find clarity in crisis,
as if the gloaming suddenly vanishes,
a glow drowning our paths in light,
leaving us with nothing but choices?

i let the water pull my hair, sink in.
my lungs fill, keep me afloat.
i let go; breath, breast, knee, nose.
surrender to the joy of metamorphosis.

the postcard


I wanted to send you a postcard from here
but I haven’t got a stamp
and your address has been lost to me for years.

The rain falls like it did back then:
quietly, but persistently.
The barrels are overflowing
and the clouds almost touch the ground.


Do you remember when fire played with us?
We danced with her shadows
and sought refuge in each others’ arms.

Now, her dark creatures withdraw from me.
Maybe they see that it’s you I need.


I threw it into the fire –
your card. Let her devour it.

May she bloom from its accumulated dreams.
May she dance and sing and love.
May she grow ever hungrier;
may she take me with her.

You’re long gone. Maybe she took you, too.
Maybe she took you, like the rain took her,
and all we ever were.

Washed through forest, into sea.

planetary perspective

did you ever stare into the sun as she was falling behind the horizon
and realize
you’re the one falling?could you finally assimilate, during her spectacular dive,
the wondrous speed
at which you’re moving?did you ever walk barefoot by the roaring, receding ocean
and ponder in awe
the distant moon’s attraction?did you ever observe great orion plunge into a forest
and mourn
when the hunter didn’t find his way homebut stands forever in cold space,
while we, in our naïvety, just keep going
aroundand around


summertime madness

the greenhouses have lifted their skirts

breathe dust breathe

and every day grows hotter
as i’m sweating out my dry longing

ocean extruding through pores,
skin oozing promises and soothing words.

tastes like salt.
and that lingering aftertaste is melancholy

the sun dances and roars laughter
maybe she’s leaving –

breathe dust




today the water is black
like oil, lidless eyes
bobbing into existence.
then gone.

it is both a source
and a reflection of our demise
that we think we can own it,
this essence and dilution of life.

how ridiculous we are!
we draw lines in water,
build walls in sand;

we carve our adolescence into trees
that engulf our forlorn names
right before they burn.

thus, that is all that remains.

names. worthless vocalizations
sung in the agony
of beginnings and ends.

to resistance

you age in circles of wood,

your heart revealing the frost you withstood.

the wildest stories of sun and wind
can all be read on your defiant skin –

on which your eternal, purifying tears
preserve the present and all past years.

you whisper and wander, though you stand still,
your raging desire, another’s thrill.

you are a hunter, silent and cold.
your tale begins when all is told.

i dreamt of a sky of wonders

i dreamt of a sky of wonders,
like an oil painting, fresh and soft
and tumbling into its flowing song
i slept through its sense of loss

its voice like the whispering aspen,
its face like a lilac scent
its touch the gardenia’s velvet
its taste like yours in the night

i dreamt of a sky of wonders,
like an oil painting, fresh and soft
and tumbling into its flowing song
i slept through its sense of loss


like the mould that grew
in the corners of our house –
devouring all rooms but the bedroom,
like an insatiable black hole
– uncontrollably blossoming darkness
and rabid dreams

something that started as a pinprick

has now avalanched into
what we lavishly bathe in:
the taste of bad wine
and old coffee
soaking up acrid mornings.

can we ever undo the drowning –
restore lungs,
endure heart failure?


white crystals sprouted and sprinkled
over green grass and shallow waters
forming thin sheets of miniature suns,
ever growing, ever fusing, ever blinding

forcing what has not yet changed
into a diamondy dress, to be kept safe,
and into a long, deep, undisturbed sleep;
a false sense of time, itself, stopping

the frost alone will keep on going,
growing, building layers upon layers
of thin sheets of self-repairing glass
until the world is nothing but pure, white beauty

but there is always an end to this aggression
always, just like it returns, always
the end will come with a bow to the sun,
then begin again when we look away, voiceless

all this slow death, all this rapid life
due to the tilt of an axis.


we linger after sunset
until we let go, feather light,

wane into our darkest lifetimes, afloat,
above ground, floor, dirt, reality

an inner sensuality,
heavy bodies suspended

on rubber, straw, air,
or someone else’s hair,

exhaling, sinking, slowly
into the comforting darkness of ourselves.

when i wake up, you’re there.
i inhale, your skin

pulls me out into post-sunset
phantom sun light

and reality, where i am lost
and only we remain.

a gentle caress

a gentle caress
fingertips on my cheeks, spine
– the sun, unlike you, here


while the world is sitting
on the branch it’s cutting off
for the power and the pride
and the heavenly takeoff

while the sun burns and
throws its life at us
and the moon softly moves away
from our lack of want to discuss

while we rest here, skin to skin
tired from love, tired from pain
you’re stuck in the web of the past
and demand me once again to explain

‘when we were not yet born
you grew up without me
you walked the streets, not always alone
you ran and swam across the sea’

but what of you, my dear?
do you know how soft my heart is
from being hit and torn and crushed
from seeing you in those arms of his?

while the bombs are raining outside
you and i, forever not together,
stare up at the broken ceiling
and talk about the weather

child of the fertile crescent

from that first brilliant flash of light
and the high-pitched voices,
from the first breath of dry air,
cold against my naked skin,

the very soil i fell onto from my mother’s womb
has never been mine;

but its richness and naïve generosity
bluntly stolen, torn from my bleeding hands
by those who occupy our land

to rape every growing thing
to harvest our ancient history
to build their armies
to keep the power
to control our soil.

until the day i leave this light,
these screams, the satisfying breath of air,
i will mourn the country i never had;
my tears watering its ever-giving soil.

sine sole sileo

dawn climbs in through the eastern window
as joni sings to us, “it’s down to you”
and your eyelashes seem brown in the morning shadow

waiting to get hurt has never been this pleasant
and what they meant has never been more clear:
if you know your future, you’ll lose the present

before i wake you or let the sun kiss your eyes
i become a magnet, i pull you closer
too close to stay safe, to listen to my own advice

how close can i hold you without settling inside,
why does your beauty grow the closer i get
and why is your soft hair such a safe place to hide?

answers are not allowed this morning, please do not speak
don’t ever let go, let us never admit to ourselves
this is where our disease reaches its peak

for we have all the symptoms, we show all the signs
of a disease we cannot mention by name;
there is not a single future where our fate aligns

but in this moment, this dawn, our bodies fit
my stomach and the curve of your back, so close
such intimacy that it’s hard not to admit

sometimes i think we’re twins, raised apart
separated and rejoined, but painfully aware
that it’ll never return, we won’t have a new start

and as the morning star creeps down your face
softly opening your eyes and putting a smile on your lips
i know i can never leave this now, never abandon this place


i always close my eyes
here, in the middle
of her house, to listen

to half a dozen clocks,
proudly proclaiming
the production of a past

out of sync,
for even between seconds,
the universe stirs.

as i stand there, my head
filled with sound, i wonder:
is their beat intentional?

were they brought here
to fill the empty space
of silent waiting?

for although their rhythm
is sweet music to her ears
it’ll be sweetest when it ends.

She trusts me

The Ocean loves me,

She made me a bed on her shore

where the warm wind, the soft waves
and the singing birds
create the symphony of symphonies;

where the generous sun, the hiding moon
and the red rocks
make immortal paintings.

She gave me the low shores
so I can enter her;
a billion diamonds on her face.

She made me the islands,
so I can rest in her embrace;
she softened the rock, to show me her dreams.


in your prolonged absence
the gravity of your presence erodes
like colours, faded from an old photograph,

leaving me unstable, chaotically wandering
away from this locked interaction of
a two-star system, mutual attraction,

protection from the depths of darkness
in this race that is ours, their words
ever stabbing at me, swallowing my will

to live, to love, to create and to breathe;
building imaginary boundaries, cracks
breaking up the entity built in your presence.

before this vacuum empties me again,
come back, love, and come back soon;
gather me up and embrace me.


From one to another universe I sprang
and promptly hit my head with a bang!
For students do not learn
how to work or how to earn;
Forever not a member of the Experience Gang…

2 thoughts on “Some poetry

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