a piece

not very important
sad but true
i only make connections
by means of the back door
a human bean who didn´t make the grade
a broken twig
a pretender, undecided
a don´t know
connecting by means of a specified set of smells, sights, chemicals, dreams, longings
irregularly and then
tant pis !
cut off from the sap

saturday

night
rain
emergency ward
waiting
i solo
attention fixed on the door
two armenians talking low
a distraught woman
with her sister, three nieces, a neighbour, her daughters, a cousin, husband
they fetch her a bottle of water and a paper handkerchief

outside briefly for air
ambulance lights still flashing
i stand close to nine young men
sharp suits, smart shaves
talking football, money, god, cars, illness
smoking cigarettes
the centre shifts a few paces away from me

the brothers i will never have
i solo
my longing drives straight through me

empty, fragile
running on empty

january 17th

when the need is so great
but not reciprocal
worlds comes crashing down

i remember
waiting for the towns to crumble
waiting for the cities to fall

i´m on this plane
feeling bad
searching my heart
for images to pull me through

overwhelmed by my own words
savaged and mauled
as when the pet tiger
one day remembers her nature

i pull the curtain aside
it´s not the words hurting
it´s the hurt

another take

who is this stupid boy ?
with his graying hair
his hangdog eyes
cold, miserable
and his lines set so weary ?

i turn away from the mirror
that doesn't cut it either

nothing is revealed

at this cold
with breath whisked away white
toes calling out for warmth.
seeking the half shelter of the roofed buildings,
i clean out my head house
i’m trying to order my mental disc

who am i ?
what shall i do ?

where do we go from here
me and my names ?

a crane standing out against gray and purple skies
its long chain swinging slow heavy in the air
such chance sights bring me nothing