The Clear Tone / Mirror of Hearts / House of Language.. / Stone Dreamed

Liv Lundberg:

 

FROM “THE CLEAR TONE”   (DEN KLARE TONEN 1979)

 

THE CLEAR TONE  (Den klare tonen)

 

The clear tone

the insurgents sent out

before they attacked the despot

before they were slaughtered

in the ensuing massacre

 

The bright

hopeful tone.

 

 

(trans.: P.T.Hopper)

 

ALONE NOONE  (Ensom Ingen)

 

My fingers claw you out from the paper.

 

I created a fairytale, an enchanted castle.

I built you under the sun

on the world´s very first morning –

you stood there:

ALONE

I sent runners out with the four winds

to fetch fire, for you were so cold,

so cold were you beneath my kisses.

 

But here is:

NOONE

I cross my arms above my head

and carry my defeat carefully to the sea.

 

 

 

THE DISTANCE THROUGH WHICH I´M ABLE TO SEE YOU

(Avstanden jeg kan se deg gjennom)

 

Sleeplessness without you.

Freedom without you.

Freedom to arrive and depart,

to love and to leave and to come and make love.

 

I can feel it when you are close,

but I see you through a distance.

 

Not to take the consequences of this

is a waste

of precious love and time.

 

Waste is the opposite of grace.

If you have grace you have mercy.

 

 

 

 

 

HEART OF THE WORLD  (Innerst i verden)

 

Love

seeps into the earth

like blood,

 

pierces through space

like arrows.

 

Love

flows into all crevices

like water,

fills all cavities

like air,

 

burns and cleanses

or chars and destroys

like fire.

 

Creates new, green sprouts

each spring

like the earth.

 

 

 

SNOWNIGHT  (Snønatt)

 

I float through the snow.

The snow came at last

rushing here

in the dark. A white message.

Bridal veil.

 

There are crowds of people out here.

They fall in the snow.

Eyes bleeding with ice.

The light through the snow,

shining white.

 

Horses and children laugh.

The dogs bark.

The people jump in the cold.

Steam from fresh horse-dung

rises upwards.

 

It’s a really a world of snow,

at last and and I´m falling

through the white darkness.

 

Traces of pasts

and futures are wiped out.

Each step is separate

like letters on white paper.

Winter – a little lamb,

shakes its fleece – where did you come from,

when you came out to us?

(trans. Anne Born)
FINALLY THEY COME   (Endelig kommer de)

 

Out of the dark

people swarm

dressed in peculiar outfits.

They carry torches, banners,

several musical instruments,

huge stuffed dolls

and different species of animals.

They sing, beckon and dance.

The noise rises towards the balcony.

 

I lean against the railing, tense

in my new set of clothes.

Then I run downstairs and out,

disappear in the crowd of people.

 

(LL)

 

 

FROM  MIRROR OF HEARTS  (HJERTERSPEIL 1981)

 

YOU 1 (Du)

 

My hands wander along

your contours:

 

The curve of your cheeks, the shoulder angle

the body´s many heights and hollows

 

To get a hold of your extension

to mark the boundaries of your significance

 

Decide where you end

and something else begins

 

You can’t flow out unbounded

over your surroundings

Not every possible content is yours

 

Your extremities connect with others’

and become meeting points

 

 

YOU 2  (Deg)

 

When I return home I find

you in the world and the world in you

 

When I sink into your eyes

When I crawl around in your body

 

are we a house of meeting points

A balancing act over open space

 

Our bodies unfold their petals

Flying soft waves trough your inner space

 

I am your rain your darkness, you

my blond lover, you said to me:

 

The only thing I want from you: You

All that I want from you: You

 

 

 

 

 

DRUDGERY, MISERY  (Slit, ulykke…..til mine mødre)

(to my mothers)

 

Green herb-women aslant

across brown-striped forest paths

into the woods

– hasty as shadows of cats

 

Women crossing

the lifelines of males

Do they bring misery?

 

Male bulking fences

by the start of female developments

Yet merely rosy white girls

They end up in misery

 

Newborn who should be holy

talismen from the future

 

Herb-women in the woods

flapping shadows

with countless pockets

 

Babies in the river, in the marsh

Black aprons of sorrow

Lines over faces and stomach skin

Lines leading to the precipice in the eyes

 

Backs bent over drudgery, over joy

over the living children

The endless necessity of food

and the icy cold water for washing

Ice lumps on the firewood sticks

Deep snow surrounding the knees

The womb as the naos of pain

 

Points of comfort:

Fire under the brewing pan

Sunlight on the porridge grain

The animal mumbling repose

Milk of mothers and of animals

 

I don’t see the husband

I don’t know

if he was a heavy comfort

or a cool curse

The hard rock in the middle

or an outline –

visible but empty.

 

(LL)

 

RUSHING BROOK, TWINS  (Bekkesus, tvillinger)

 

Childhood in a green valley

Brooks were rushing underneath the mountain

 

We were many children

We had many places

 

Flat fields in front of a stony stairway

Violet flowers by the sunburnt wall

 

In my childhood there was sun

 

When the old died

we were seated around the open coffins’

sharp wax-yellow features

 

When the new-born died

we got to see the pictures of small coffins

Twin graves in the churchyard

 

(Louis Muinzer)

 

 

BURGER’S DAUGHTER

 

I see clenched fists in the eyes

darkskinned movements

across the white forehead

 

The acute span of existence:

resistance against, acceptance of

the sole significant insight:

 

The road is the goal – the bridge

leads across to the country

that does not yet exist

 

(trans. LL)

 

 

 

 

HER  (Henne)

 

It shines from her

In the morning her eyes are naked

Later they slip into a troll

 

I remember she’s been her before

Pressed up against the wall she was laughing

Like a gentle serious angel

 

She lives in images

She walks on roads in the air

She never waits patiently

 

I can’t keep hold of her

She lights red lanterns on the ice

And vanishes over the next hill

 

(trans. Anne Born)
MAY-BE  (Kan-skje)

 

She might be more concerned with my words

than with beauty´s pretty shoes

 

She might reject the prince and the dress

and get up shiny language outfits

 

I hear fragile tinkling word-sounds.

Friends are coming with dandelion wine

 

Grandmother will open the living-room doors

put wine-glasses on the lace cloth

 

The sun will blink and open the windows

and fill the air with buckets of daisies

 

The friends lift smiles in their glasses

Children share shiny pictures and apple cider

 

Grandmother might well bake a pastry-cake

Grandfather might fetch wood for the stove

and smoked salmon, Uncle Thomas is likely to

bring his accordion and Ole Johan snatches

the fiddle from the wall, maybe she’ll read some poems

 

to the music and the cat

which purrs against our feet.

 

(trans. Anne Born / LL)

 

From “THE HOUSE OF LANGUAGE HAS OPENINGS”

(Spr}kets hus har åpninger 1982)

 

THE PATTERN WHICH CONNECTS  (Mønstret som binder sammen)

 

In the beginning:

A pattern of organic energy

 

where sub-atomic particles

dance without known cause

 

dance with many steps

and huge results

 

all that we see and are and do

are results – in this respect

 

Either that’s where it will also end:

with the sub-atomic

 

when a sufficient number of

atoms are detonated

 

Or it will continue:

In the pattern which connects

 

all the niveaus in a single comprehension

of the one imminent god of nature

 

which is all

 

LOVELY  (Vakkert)

 

sitting, scratching

holes in the sheat of paper

 

how ruthlessly

 

not really able to do

anything else

 

lovely he speaks

 

could come across

a beautiful day

under the paper

in the aching language


THE LINGUAL HOUSE  (Språkets hus)

 

The lingual house

has openings

 

The light and the wind

cast in streaks of star-littered universe,

snow crystals and chlorophyll

 

In the house live human beings

naturally I live here too

 

The house has a bloody furniture

a frenzy of violence and klillings

 

Yet the language speaks

as if all is normal

 

We are lingual animals

more dangerous than all

crossing every border

 

In the house live everybody I love

they have nowhere else to live

 

Even the ones sparkling with poetry

pulsating with redhot longings

and spinning rainbows of tender care

 

Even the children´s bodies

contain that house

there are no escape

 

While we watch each other dying

we are forced to catch the wind

 

stars and chlorophyll

 

 

IT’S NOT DANGEROUS  (Det er ikke farlig)

 

It´s all about vertigo

 

when you grabble dizzingly

after a handshake

 

when your feet have not understood

their place on earth, when

 

the law of gravity has been upset

and the very centre is getting uncentered

 

When the circling motions whirr

from centrifugal fears

 

then you easily tip over the presipice

never having practised to fall

 

You´ll collide with the earth

in close contact

 

get dark blotches, swellings and wounds

a map over non-verbal terrain

 

It’s not dangerous

it´s only hurting


AIKIDO   (Aikido)

 

Kanetsuka sensei demonstrates

 

ai – ki – do

 

The body’s deep recognition

its inner strenght accompany the breathing

on its way to the movement’s complete

 

harmony

 

A fanning ray of circular movements

out from the point of gravity’s unyielding

 

centre

 

The power of the attacker is turned against

the attacker to make him realize:

His attack was an act of evil

 

 

After a demonstration of the japanese

art of defence, aikido, in Troms|, march 1982
SELFEVIDENTLY CENTRAL

 

Zen monks bake their black bread with no tears

shaping them selfevidently in their centre

still round forms turn to gold in the oven

crisp crusts around soft smelling heat

 

Zen monks eat the bread with no tears – and tea

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IMAGES IN BREATH AND EARTH  (Bilder i pust og jord)

 

Villages with church steeples

 

The dark trees shivering in the wind

 

Crests and hollows of naked bodies

 

Cries of anxiety and hands folded

 

Fluttering wings and animal tracks

 

In the depths of the well in space

 

Between the past and the future

 

A silent basis of language

 

Riddles you´ll never forget

 

Answers to questions nobody asked

 

Images laugh at our glances

 

Our intentions and calculations

 

Our causal chains and self-control

 

Images starved by language

 

Play at the bottom of weeping

 

Hunting here in this encounter

 

Beneath a pale, grey sky

 

Across vast snowy plains

 

Over soft moss and birch trees

 

Images are carved out on mountain walls

 

From longing and necessity

 

To navigate the dreaming

 

To where people work together

 

Give birth to each other close to the ground

 

Images travel in breath and earth

 

Through space and time

 

 

THE EARTH IS SPINNING DIZZILY  (Jorda er virvlende ør)

 

My life nailed to yours

Thus we got common wound

and common earth

 

the earth is black will

and suction

 

I approached you

on a combination of

lack and lust

 

You came out from your distance

and grabbed me

 

the earth is spinning dizzily

in space

 

In this light you are

a penetrating pattern

emptying in me

 

earth is growing children

dreams, wars

 

and limits to all

 

 

OPEN, INTENT  (åpen, ufravendt)

 

 

Outstreched mornings, brimfull

of affections, sensations

 

Your skin on the tips of my fingers

expand me into a rain of lust

 

Shameless and grateful

I suck in your warm time

 

Your body is earth and fruit

I bury my roots in you

 

Salty summer flows from you

open, intent, I receive

 

 

TO FIND A COMMON ENTRANCE  (For å finne en felles inngang)

 

Love as blindman’s buff

as certain as jammed lock

 

and as acute

Cold seeps into all cracks

 

I forget you several times a day

you gather me more seldom

 

into your hands

The house freezes to

 

a bittle taste in the communication

and cold aversion in the tenderness

 

The room encloses in a tired movement

but nothing settles down

 

and nothing arises

Steps are going away in the snow

 

nights frosted by grief

I search for an exit

 

to find a common entrance:

You are human I am human

 

To be opposite is something else

than being averted, my beloved

 

“why don’t you try me tonight?”

 

 

NO MORE DELAY   (Ingen utsettelse lenger)

 

There is no more

delay, it’s now and forever

 

Sadly I´m streched with the wind

leaning on the currents

mixing up bondaries

 

If I really was bowing down

if I really was getting up

 

If I swayed and danced

humbly on the ground

 

Who would kick me

who would spit on me?

 

The question is mine alone

now and forever

 

With my head under my arm

I forswore three times

 

There is something about the world

I cannot bear, one single

 

vast injustice I cannot endure

Where can I possibly then

 

invest my gratitude?

I no longer wait for an answer

 

I have drunk and emptied a dream

what is left achs tenderly

 

I’m on fire, flames dying out

here or never

 

PRECISELY  (Nøyaktig slik)

 

In children killed we can see

a distinct meaning

 

a black truth in all bright hopes

 

Children die of hunger and war

and indifference

 

a black shadow across all faces

 

Children killed; as real

as lovely as your own child

 

a black dash across all trains of thought

 

Children die newborn when morning

climbs the planets’ dark range

 

a black rose for all ceremonies

 

In children killed we realize what we mean

precisely: This is what we mean

 

such is our world

 

 

LOGIC  (Logikk)

 

History appears as a series of massacres

 

People’s pain and death create

a bond leading to the masters of earth

to the nucleus of power

 

A bond through the heart of the world

a particular relation a logical connection

between bloody terror and inhuman abundance:

 

If poverty gets hold of the little finger, it bolts down

the total hand, ruler of the world

 

The hand melting the earth’s fertility into gold

 

The Inca Indians said: “Is gold what you want?”

and poured liquid gold into the conquistadores’ throats

 

A pretty fatal logic

that was massacred

 

 

FROM “DOUBLE EDGED ANGEL”    (TVE-EGGET ENGEL 1988)

 

 

I DRIVE, QUEEN OF ICE    (Jeg kjører isdronning)

 

I drive, Queen of Ice through winter´s ocean

behind borrowed reindeer across frozen waves

heaven’s darkness streaming like a starry mane.

 

Swords of northern lights are drawn before light´s

battle for the love of darkness. The sleigh

flees from winter’s heart, cold and paralyzing.

 

I hear the King of Winter is enraged:

He´s gnawing the icicles off stars and houses

gashing heaven´s frost with mountain peaks

 

he´s grinding snow breasts between icy teeth

hounding the lust of darkness with a biting whip,

and I am drunk with ice, my cheeks aflame

 

with fierce winter fever as spiky stars stab out

through my flesh and crystalline minerals sweat

from the depths beneath my body´s skin and hair

 

where light awaits naked as a bridegroom,

until darkness surrender altogether, and

day arises with its beaming lucid mind.

 

(trans: Susan S. Senstad)

 

HERE  (Her)

 

The light surfs breakers of time

the haze of heat hangs blue clouds

in blue, let the years like a riddle

 

riddle themselves, I’ve forgotten

and remembered enough, now I will

be here in this where I am

 

Each morning awakens

new vivid days – fine!

 

(Trans: Susan Schwartz Senstad)
THE WORD             (Ordet)

(Hommage to Sylvia)

 

The knife in my troat is screaming

from genitals streaming black

the blood is mine, I spill it out

 

over your white tactical sheets

The womb wrings in spasms

to final birth released

 

I am a workshop, you are a board

with the knife I’m carving out

the word I loved you with

 

I nail it onto a cross

twine a rope, am ready to go

but the road is steep, the word is heavy

 

my shoes are poor, I don’t feel much for it

my neck is painful, I wipe my mouth

with dirt, trying to forget

 

It’s raining and I am thirsty

Where is the house of the deaf benefactors

were the kind food sisters are serving

 

from steaming vocal chords

a poem of necessities

and fill up the daily wounds

 

with bandaging language

If you call, I´ll be busy

I lost my feelings on the spot you stood

 

Relatives and strangers are pushing in

Are they out to catch my full intention?

The salt, the bread, all which I lack

 

to silence the scream, to stem the blood

It’s flowing all over like loving

I didn’t realize that word was fatal

 

(trans: LL)

 

 

 

 

SONG FOR THE EVENING (Sang til kvelden)

 

Give us today our black bread stone

give us also a blueberry drink

and a little cod-liver oil

 

And a song for the sinful evening

shuffled in a patience game of desire

dreaming us awake

 

We are nurtured by the sky day after day

growing strong as the oceans

 

(LL)
EGG  (Egg)

 

Beastly emotions sniff the layers of instincts

Crawling lust marking meeting paths

and places for mating and birth

 

I started with a grip of the imminent:

A finger-hook, a milk-filled breast

an ancient hunger, a centre of lust

 

I drifted as plant, a growing instinct

a fruit falling through landscapes and voids

crossing timespans and changing thoughts

 

From the womb I jumped, an egg

here I’m drifting along, a globe of pain

a point of delight, intertwined

 

in confusion with other voluntary

animal sacrifice

in service of greedy life

 

(LL)

 

MY REAL DAUGHTER   (Min ekte datter

WORLD YOUNG            verden ung)

 

She made a garland of her hair for the feast

and threw her tears to the wolves

She forged her sword-soul boyish

and traded feathers with time´s leaping heaven

 

She raced ahead to hunt the storms

and passionately kissed the skin of snow

She would fly with all the wild birds

animals and shadows, freely

 

to the light of wolves’ jaw, with polar bears´ pawprint

stamped into her memory

She wanted to win, as if her life were youthful

and blond and fresh and soft as stone

 

She stepped androgynously across the borders

toward the distinctly open inner land of ice

She would be among those who dive

she would carry death like a precious stone

 

She would live spreadeagled across life

be a fine-tuned instrument

against the world´s tortured, aging reason

She wished to torment cruelty

 

with her strong and mercy-glowing laughter

She would salvage joy

from that powerful despair

 

(trans: Susan S Senstad)
RAW  (Ratt)

 

Excoriated, flayed, a steaming raw

condition, a destruction

admitted into, to exile from

 

the bowels, to rip open language directly

in the womb, bloody harvest festival, rage

dripping red in the white snow

 

God is your kin, a butcher visiting

You love the meat, raw and sliced exactly

into opening and wisdom

 

(LL)

 

 

DEMONS  (Demonene)

 

Childhood failed and fell away

revengeful angels shattered                   /?

like black premonitions

 

Darkened angel heads

encroach my house, growing

more ruthless

 

spreading like cancer

spiteful tongues consume

my dream of fullblown garden-life

 

Every month I´m bleeding

like from a wound

like from grief

 

Gently like a flower or a woman

to soften the grim, merciless memory

with a sacrificial grail

 

I scythe till my hands are blistering

my back cracking into screams

moreand more I resemble them

 

The demons are my gift of genius

I realize I am chosen

and barred in

 

(LL)

 

WHERE IT IS (Der det er)

 

Cannot live there

in darkness against the heart

pumping with black blotches

 

Must get out and let it be told

even though it cannot be seen

and not heard

 

So dark it cannot be touched

by anything I know

 

(LL)
DAD  (Far)

 

What is the connection:

Your body in the ground – and my

lover’s sporadic adultery?

 

The connection, dad?

What is a man?

Who am I?

 

This is the end, daddy

and I should have been your  father

from the beginning

 

White, smooth face

Smiling coffin in the organ peal

of death, dad, saved

 

from the jaw of life

which consumed your body

with decaying oblivion

 

I see you released

so free, noone can know how free

father, my origin, semen

 

Some resistance I cannot know

an unwanted tale

Your tender sadness kept still

 

Matrimony cannot be washed away

from earth to earth

Now you have nothing

 

Your desire locked into

your averted glance

on my mother!

 

I watched your submission

I did not go near your gentle ways

in my most frozen moment

 

dizzyingly: Liv!

Remote and rejected

I refused you to be loved by me

 

You adored the joyous and bright

I accepted, I accept

outside me, only my skin

 

now, you are dead

So much death your childhood

too many dead to survive

 

too much to lose, and me

too tiny for your history

With what was I to be growing?
I grew by myself, inwards

contained in the body, so free

you have no idea how free

 

My wildgrowing thoughts

no pain, no wounds to lick

only the emptiness squeaking

 

Now, at last, the pure body

of pain, my inner darkness

confronts its scream

 

Decaying dad still alive

the earth is black, finished at last

I should have been your father

 

and lay you down

like an early lost child

I now have found dead

 

You, who could not, in chilly earth

among whispering trees, whispering soul

blessed, poor – peace

 

such I’ve been fighting my sense

Now, I´ll lay down a feeling

on your grave, as my answer

 

(LL)‹
A HOLE IN THE SKY  (Hull i himmelen)

 

The earth is a hole in the sky

a hole casting shadow

The moon tilts on the brink of a cloud

The wind whispers about heavenly secrets

 

Life is to open words on blank pages

and invest in stars for the berieved

The moon is nodding, coming too late and too early

in the rhythm we suffer from and to which we make love

 

Heaven has its empty apartment

to lodge our dubious prayer

it always answers it never gets quiet

in the Word of God, our hound howls to its grave

 

(LL)

 

A HOUND FOR THE FROST  (En hund etter frosten)

 

I was a hound after frost

I growled and gnawed the ice bone clean

 

My master lashed the whip over my back

Stuck and leashed, I howled and cried

 

While he mated me with one of them

The birth made me accessible

 

And opened wolves’ jaws of hot revenge

The killing of the puppies was a massacre

 

I never will forget I loved them

I pulled the sleigh with puppy corpses

 

Across the drift ice of my Inner Arctic

beneath the Northers lights´ blue polished swords

 

And forth until the time´s open mouth

pointed out a new road home

 

to the starry bitter, bright sharp sweetness

 

(LL)

BUZZING ANGELS  (Englene som svirrer)

 

1.

 

The angel in my home behind the stone

with red light flames and glass-flower teeth

dancing skin in the eyes and wings intertwined

 

laughs and laughs and laughs

and it scares me

till my death

 

2.

 

You rasp my smooth surface with your lust

I rise, confident sleepwalker

and set the music adrift

 

night after night like departures

I have built and burnt an angel

an ice coast and loved nobody

 

3.

 

A scatterbrained angel so close

to the day which is burning your wings

an everyday magpie, a silver-snatcher

 

chasing after glitter

flapping impudent with wag-tail

and black white tricks

 

Solves the twinkling riddles of day

and opens my eyes

to the insatiable fall

 

when the wild rouge will pale

to white

and the angel shall fall

 

4.

 

Sick of knocking on blackened suns

Tired of sinking into flaring cold oblivion

Painful to look with the closed eye reopened

 

The point of pain vibrates and burns, a mark stamped

on the bull´s brow, I fly in a peak

like a self-seducing flame

 

The angel has left me

the angel could not find me

 

(LL)
LIVING TO DEATH  (Levende til d|d)

 

Chasing hands fingering

into blind alley stimulus

urges are sniffing their way

 

To leathergeared screams of sensation

seductive whiplashes puncture

sprawling fleshy glances

 

Lust for the innermost wisdom

to conceptualize completely

all alive to death

 

 

 

 

“STONE DREAMT”   (STEINDR\MT  1985)

 

 

I.

 

 

a grey green glance

slowly stopped the rain

into ice

 

 

 

in the eye

a closed up mirror

opens its dark

person

horror stricken

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

hazard

black

core of resistance

an opus

of dread

plucking the strings

 

 

 

autumn extinguished

the precious trees

and the children

have turned to black spikes

 

(sss)
*

 

 

darkness expresses

its point

silently

 

 

 

the ice has stuck

to my clothes

I cut

into everything grown

over my head

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

I have

smoothed my skin

into smiles

cut my glance

to insight

staring mirror

of doubt

 

 

 

I sliced my heart

to make sense

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

face at the foot of

a towering

precipice

the altitude increases

your resistance

 

 

 

*

 

 

a face

in my mouth

that never has spoken

higher

than light

stars are cracking

you tread

for your life

is moving you slowly

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

the snow has put

its eye

on mine

 

 

 

my mouth is freezing

 

I light

a fire

in dreaming

 

 

 

*

 

 

ice, mirror

and scrapings

 

in the oral cavity

a tongue

licking

winter to images

 

 

 

*

 

 

dark poems

flared out

into a cold life

 

 

 

throbbing mountain

in my eye

a gap

to be filled

 

 

 

stone grate

in

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

I’m writing

the snow

god of snow

my skin of stone

 

writing snow

 

points of stone

messages

 

tiny parcels of

stony peace

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

stone head, hit

down

your days

a child

in your hand

a piece of bread

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

tangled up

in frost and snow

be still

a petrified inferno

 

 

 

the hands clenched

cold

against darkness

grimly, without grief

 

 

 

down to the last

salt frozen

heaven´s grip

 

grid of

snow pinnacles

point of no pain

 

(LL)

 

*

 

 

 

a stone

to end up with

after all shadows

a place

till the earth ends

a stone

to bow one’s thoughts to

all snow

reminiscent of

earth shall vanish

a thought

of stone

a place to begin

 

(sss)

 

 


II.

 

 

images

in the snow

is this a face

to recognize

 

trampled flat

 

anatomy of cold

knocked out in my heart

 

open gaps

around the images

falling

stone dreamed

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

invaluable

fear

 

the childhood before

you burst

 

the waves question

the childhood

you have forgotten

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

stone in my mouth

shame

so poor is no one here

in this house of

black

winter trees

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

mother down

ruins

 

father loving

always

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

empty presences

buried

in the air

around me, holes

 

 

 

the lack ahead of me

future

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

stony eye

blind

in the self portrait

 

cannot see

the suicide

 

open cracks the light

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

blazing agents

 

faces against disquiet

 

behind glass

upholstered

strapped

through forever

 

 

 

*

stone out

the cracks in the chest

 

desperate

assaults

 

flicking like knives

cutting

like smiles

you´re going to regret

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

mountains

what are they waiting for

 

a closed human being

shattered

 

belongs to the dreams

 

the power

suddenly dangerous

may see

 

what I am

 

 

 

*

 

everywhere body

 

you may belong to

everybody

 

I gamble

to win

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

my breath

one winter

among other mountains

I’m high, high

on snow and labyrinths

 

unappeasable stone

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

metal dark

nights

taste of

salty hearts

dreamdrifting

light

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

night and naked

silence in the doorway

snow infants

 

scent of nocturnal stones

sisters of the body

exchange

skin

for cold

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

the mountain out

greedy

to be

filled

 

into everywhere

 

 

 

I am afraid, I want to

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

winter desire

through ice

 

holes wrenched

to blade of sword

 

my head in ruins

has lost

its heaven

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

to slide erotic

stone

through all the veins

through web of breasts

and thrusts

of hips

one enclosed moment

I slide

from hours

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

mounting heat

reason

 

an encounter

is entering

 

 

 

into blossoming cities

fountains of words

nights

crash

crying in love with

the fragile bridges

cobble-stoned

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

snow

in the glance of mine

 

shaking in mountains

the lustre

mountain-peaks thrust

into me

capricorn

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

lover of cold

trembling

 

with black eyes

 

stone life I do not

regret

spills into my hand

 

two beasts wake me

in the nude

(LL)
III.

 

 

no salvation

or seduction

only

the truth

of my moments

 

 

 

a cultivated frost form

in a stone garden

the moon

above the mountain

 

 

 

beneath the mountain

one second

 

in the avalanche

my face

 

(sss)

 

*

 

 

 

 

I am pure

winter

radiantly free

for as long as I go

 

 

 

I am volontary

distance

on the horizon

and understand

 

 

 

the long road

of the winter

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

light

in confusion with

stone

on your open

morning

 

 

 

the darkness blue

over town

dew-dripping

stone

on the verge of

an inkling, a grasp

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

mild

still, wide

white and wild

the silence

is filled with sound

a town

in which to look for

the mountain

 

 

 

further along

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

rock sliding

tumbling

images

into my legs

walked out

as delight

on the horizon’s

skin

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

snow laughter

blows the breath

to certainty

 

mountain as lights

above depths

 

angel steps

*

 

 

 

it is stoned

 

stars, angels

blown free

writing burnt

to a point

 

stoned out

from the silence

onto the roads

where the world walks

 

stone marked

open

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

stone in my mouth

golden stone

no one can crush

between teeth

cut with a knife

 

 

 

stone with my mouth

in golden sand

one word in the air

on starry feet

 

(LL)

 

 

 

stone head, hit

 

stone eye, look

 

how much I can do

untrue

 

stone tongue

lick me

pure and salt

and saltier, bird

like seaweed

on skin

 

 

 

a pure glance

a black light

into the depths

we disappear

(sss)

 

*
IV.

 

through the darkness

with you

my stone glance

my stone man´s

hard lips

kiss the sole life

in me

only thus

am I given

feeling

in stone

 

(sss)

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

empty one border

desire

cannot swim

the throat

flowerblack

I am

dedicated

 

to death, stone

 

 

 

*

 

 


    you ignite

fires in the pain

of frankness

 

 

 

burn the eye

to transformation

in pain

of lust

 

melting the stone

 

 

*

 

 

 

rings in stones

off

over ridges of heaven

 

all is affected

in the winters’ raving mad

infatuation

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

the dream I was flying

like tones

so far

my passion

captured

a mountain

in me alone

was a core

 

now I’m sober

as drunken

into the mountain

and out

 

 

*

 

 

 

in the stone

is a swordsboy

on his way out

 

my soul divided

 

a slash of stone

like silver

 

sword heaven

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

I am still here

stars

dissolved

 

 

 

I saddle

and mount

beneath morning glory

and ride into golden

disappearance

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

daughter of stone

chasing light

imprints of the beast

on watch

stone skin your scream

 

the truth of frost

in the well

two birds like tears

at bottom

the stone is yours

 

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