The house is cleaned up
my head is next

hands around a warm glass
lights turned off, staring

at a flame, unnoticed
burning up my worries

But my skull retains
something heavy deeply hidden

seeing no light, concealed
a desire

to live and experience
My skull retains

my centre of gravity

Kulupu kulupu
Lon li pona pona
E suno li pona
E len kin li pona

En mi sijelo kin
sina sijelo kin
telo e kasi en
e kili li pona



Moku mute li pona
Lape mute li pona
Olin li pona pona
mi olin e mi mije

tan o ona li pona
Ona li pona mute
Unpa musi li pona
Unpa mute li pona



Pali pona mama mama
pali pona pona
E suno li pona
pona pona pona

Lon li pona pona
pali pona pona
Mi olin e sina
tan e sina li pona

People people
It's very good to live
The sun is good
Clothes are good too

And my body too
your body too
water, the plants and
the fruits are good



Eat a lot is good
Sleep a lot is good
Love is very good
I love my man

because he is good!
He is very good
The joy of sex is good
Often sex is good



Thank you mum dad
thank you very much
The sun is good
very very good

It's very good to live
thank you very much
I love you
because you are good

In the evening the dunes are flat
and swampy watergray
bushes darken with dashes
of red and blue

Everything loses solidity
land looks like sea and sea seems to be land
in thin waves of twilight
water coagulates to shades of sand

Clouds resemble a massif
and moonless mountains
seem to be a night-black sky
in which are no stars

Ideas are lifelike
shapes do pass
Know where you attach to
then you are free

I see the late and the early
people in lighted rooms
where the curtains are not closed

I see men in the twilight
penumbra of the morning
talking on the benches

in the circle of the square
that then starts singing
in the trees that live there

Everything keeps going on
from yesterday to tomorrow
without beginning and end

There is no direction
everything's going by itself
its divine way

The judge is listening, the clerk recording
everything and very precisely
the lawyers summarise it

A butterfly flutters through the hall
gently, gently
the judge catches it

between his hands, just a moment
then he arranges the acts
in an archive box

without passing sentence
He sends away the parties
to settle a small issue

together and
at the next session
he invites them

to make arrangements themselves
on another point
He takes the box and asks

their assent to close it
There is music from the café
the judge closes the windows

stores bands and robe
In the courtyard full of flowers
he fills a large watering can

I feel the wave
through my clothes
in my lungs
the stalks behind the reed

and I shudder
with the seas and the grass
the inaccessible swamp

Patches of gull and we
voices of the song
of the earth, breath of her tide
echo of her singing

we harbours with locks
osmotic enclaves
personating skin

Pumping sound
gifts in and out
we are music
I am music

My neighbour is a thinker
a statue behind the house
in the summer and the winter

garden concealed in the spruce
His legs graft him:
bare, upright branches

invisibly sustained
by roots in the ground

At times a wind that doesn't want to wait
is stroking through his feathers
but hé is not rushed

when I throw fish
Thoughtful he knows
opportunities are taken or missed

and he knows the difference
the right moment
or not

Well, I may drown
freeze to death overnight
under a tree, just

grow numb or be lucky
and get a place
to sleep in the shelter

under the hundred beds blanket
with a head hole for each
comfortably warm together

But even then, this morning
my neighbour didn't wake up
at the first, second and third gong

Floundering he went up
when the blanket was hoisted
Under the beams he hung still

a skinny body -- we watched
and for a half we each fenched
an incense stick

It was already there, unnoticed
until I started to pay attention

and now it comes in full
speed during the ceremony

I'm melting in front of a wall
of a sky high blazing fire

I am no longer a body
but flowing vibrations of heat

a growing, glowing spirit
as if I'm spreading arms into wings

I fall backwards
A gently waving bed

catches me, it eats the flames
and covers me with gold

It was already there
my third eye

the hidden entrance
for secrets and primal energy

the opening for the eternal
light from me

The things and the people are crying out
for my attention, there is a clutter
in the cupboard, mail in the box, a list

for groceries, all kinds of things
compelling me throughout the day
to relax, they grow

the more I think of them and it doesn't help
to clean up as long as I keep on living
the same, locking me up in shame and guilt

because of what I see in the mirror
that others are holding against me
with whom I dare not discuss

and live the truth: the sun
that fulfils my whole being
with inexhaustible energy --

fuel in my belly
love in my heart
light in my head

At sea I am a dragon
with mighty wings
bulging with my breath
blazing with the sun

led by my one hand
at the helm, and the other
on the lines, tight enough
and loose enough

every moment again the wind
exactly in the middle
on the sweet spot:
two hearts connected

in the high waves
in the wild water
always in balance
like two playful dolphins

And when the seagulls land
on the deck at the rising of a storm
that confines me in rain curtains, I follow
its whims attentively and hold course

until a gap opens
between its black teeth
and I glide into the blue
the freedom between two skies

in which everything is clear
and I have a view
in all directions
from dawn to sunset

Just let people
think what they like to think
I am strong, I claw
fire off me

breathe warmth and light
in and out of my heart
fruitfully connected
with mother earth

I nurture life
that gives me all -
with drops of moon
blood, and I open me

for whom is worthy
knowing the Force:
letting it flow freely
through every fiber

In this sanctuary I am the saint
a bigbellied buddha
Everyone tries hard
to make me live with a smile
To receive is everything
to receive is to grow

There is so much I can get
so what shall I take from the game?
Do you have from the cakes: the cream
puff, and from the animals: the unicorn
and the dragon?
Then I won!

The dragon brings me everywhere
by the shortest, the fastest
or the golden mean way
I am in her neck with a smile
wrapping the world around my finger
What is changing, changes

If I were a giant, I would
definitely live in the woods
because trees are even bigger

and then I also have a family
because they live in the woods too
Furthermore, no one lives there

maybe brownies, invisible
because they stay behind the trees
I like to come in the big forest

the trees are waiting for me
and they always walk along with me
until I'm out of the woods

Then they stand still again
and they watch me going --
since I became seven

At that time they came at night
on a visit to say
that I am always welcome

It's been discussed, explained
and considered to a decision
a job, nothing more

to do, just wait
make ends meet
with some chores

a nice story in due time
be open to good luck
accept with a friendly smile

and proudly what casually is
given with love, and forget
what you are waiting for

There is no certainty
in anyone's hands
where it is going

Just sit down
at the promenade
and watch the people

Most of them are free
and bored, not really
on the way, sometimes tired

sometimes with children
who have no idea
together, on vacation

from sports, games and school –
learnt in the cradle, lasting long
but nothing happens

different than usual but
licking an ice cream
just like flies

you can catch
if you are handy and fast
because they always want to eat

and like fathers and mothers
for their future only
have worrisome wishes

When young, I took the world
inside, filling me
And every day, fed
by age-wise women

I was happy to grow, greater
than Alexander the Great
Baruch and Master Kong
I married and had children

Homely and ordinary years
of peace and fulfilled wishes
It just continued, the people
with whom I spoke, the places

I kept coming, the classes
I started to have, the world
I handed out and the soul-
snips of myself

that I began to leave everywhere
to get empty of life
that stands still when it doesn't flow
to young bodies

The closing of the sky is the last
I see, only my air bubbles
can escape, I myself am floating

down weightlessly
not sinking, not drowning
fading slowly

feeling nothing when I land
on the deep bottom of the sea
which reflects in the water

as a dark well shaft
the circle of light just a point
a star in my eternal night

The sun hangs on
just above the water
With romantic feelings
the old people look

at us on the rocks
where we read to each other
They don't see the ants
only our young bodies
and in mind, they add the lizards

A foghorn sounds at sea
but there is nothing to see
until suddenly around us
the bathers on the concrete blocks
become who they seemed to be:

ghosts cherishing themselves
in the warmth on their skin
They turn around and wait
sleeping for the sun

I'm Obi, I carry that burden
even if it is hard for me sometimes
but then I salute the sun
and I smile at the moon

I'm not in a hurry
I breathe, I eat
the lightning and drink the rain
then I feel no pain

I like nice clothes
that's all, stay away
if you don't want to know me
and know everything better

I don't have to do anything
and I do nothing that doesn't flow
I know the angels
by their name

Safely walking the streets
on the sidewalk, looking around
what's there, seeing it
as something special

Warming myself by the fire
and gazing into the flames
Letting thoughts be consumed
without missing them

Listening to the waterfall's
rush, rain
Washing myself clean
of what is to come

Circling like a hovering bird
seeing everything and nothing
Until an insight stirs
that I dive into

It happens by itself
as if I am capable of something
understand something, am something
beyond my reason

Dive into this sea
rustle just like me!
Fumy foamy me
sloshing surging we
jingle jangle jee
fringle frangle free!

Flipper flopper flee
widdle waddle wee
sweeter tweeter tea
swopper sweeper pee
dive into this sea
rustle just like me!

Don't talk, tomorrow too, tell
no stories, no illusions
rather do not give me anything

The reality is enough
as it is, not specified
free of labels

If I ever learn this
I will be wise and see
the known myself

also what isn't specified
of which I have to guess
what I smell, what I feel

and hear and see
also you
who wishes to be known

Don't talk, don't frame yourself
in an anecdote, such a short film
caught in templates

Fold back the duvet, escape
from the heat of the dream
letting the feeling go down
that is left of it

Change position, rest
and daydream about better times
In bed everything is a dream
my life a dream

my consciousness a dreamcatcher
Shadows dwell
in the knots of the gossamer
with undigested remains here and there

Somewhere in the web
I wake up, a story begins
its jumbled turns, I sink away
in the holes of my mind

Elsewhere in the web, a story begins
to wind in another way
along well-known facts, I sink away again
from the dream of my life

So many lives I've lived
intertwined with what I did
and said to the people
I could touch

I kissed men
without kissing them
I've been abandoned
betrayed and beaten

as if it were real
and in my fantasy I slept
with friends I hugged
every now and then

My life is more
I am more
sympathy than blood and sweat
but all tears are real

Though powerlessly, I love
the people I look in the eye
through glasses of chance
glasses of words

or a camera, and
I love my neighbours
though it is routine
and falling short

While I'm writing
I miss him in private
press him firmly and gently
against me
make him surrender

to my hands
to the blissful all
also feel him while I'm reading
and make him feel that
we are intimate friends

Words are nothing
if they don't touch
Contact is nothing
not intimacy
without a thought

Thoughts are channels
giving direction to our lives
and making us feel
what we feel, feel
that we are not alone

First I look at the man at the table
then at the window of the beach café
still as a photo, white lines around the panes

holding my attention
so beautiful that I don't get bored -
the white! the light! the division of the plane!

I consulted the wisdom
of the internet: Why
are photos never boring?

and I got a doggerel of commonplaces
which ignore the marvel
the marvel of the world

In photos, news reports and holiday
snaps, I now see the background -
the world around us

Not yet
my raincoat on
taking step after step

against the wind
across the empty beach
only in thoughts

alone in the world
with a cup of tea
in the cup of my hands

Hazy gray dune, goosebumps
over the sand, whitecaps
on the low clouds

and not a beast to be seen
this afternoon, meditating
in front of the window

going up in the mist soon
without disappearing
Not yet

In the city there are many doors
that are open at night
to being awake
experiencing something together
across the threshold
no longer being an outsider

In the city there are many sidewalks
where people stand
and explore distant areas
with flexible words
questions and mental leaps
to become familiar with them

In the city there are many gardens
where children play, birds
whistle and all year round, flowers
attract bees and people
to come and feast
on the nectar of the day

I work in the white palace
Input, output, no ripple
in my body, my mind
remains calm, whatever I do

In between I experience the silence
in the red palace rooms
that I can always enter
wherever I am

There I open my skull
into a cup and I experience
myself, let love flow
to what occupies me

There I also look at the lives
of my loved ones, of strangers
and of the people I meet
I embrace them with many arms

of tenderness

I keep walking, into the woods
with the puppy, and into the village
the world I live in

I keep walking, keep taking care
of the little ones, they run faster
and faster, further and further

I keep walking, in a circle
of family and friends that is
getting smaller and smaller

I keep walking, up the paths
into the lanes, over the dikes
in stages across the country

I keep walking, and sewing
for the brides, the most beautiful
dress of their lives

I keep walking, and arranging
what would otherwise be sorely missed
by those who can't do it themselves

I keep walking, I know
the forest and the lake, I can manage
the ascents and the descents

I think there is a beautiful palace
deep inside me
where gods determine how
my life must pass

They want satisfaction
are all unrest and
many, unruly
they do what they always do

They spoil my senses
enough or just not enough
because time and again I long for more
Please, one more time, one more time

I get so tired of that urge
I want to get rid of it
and think about how
I could achieve that

but it seems to happen spontaneously
   A girl sneaked in
   into my head or may have
   lived there from her childhood

   She went down all the stairs
   and, with a lighter and patience
   she set fire to the bottom step
   in the cellar where

   the gods reside
Now she runs up, fast fast
She flees ahead of the fire
rescues her body, rescues me too

Around the corner I visit Koan Float
because I could have been floating
between thriving bodies in the Dead Sea
at the deepest point
of the earth's crust but
I rather expose me completely
to sensory death
with the koan that my essence is
that there's no essence anywhere

Floating I practice ukizen
looking like a man with clear vision
who carries out a careful research
I delete every sideshow till the core
remains I start to find out
internally who and what I am
again and again until I know the truth
and my head has caught fire
of longing for what is eternal

But the water overcomes the fire
wipes away the shapes of my body preservation
with some reflections ripples salt
eats my flesh but lets me live
in a sarcophagus my mind keeps hovering
over emptiness I breathe upon nature
and experience enlightened the adventure
of the koan to float disembodied
that essentially no one can describe

Blanche, the white one
is another Tormenta
in another sunnier year

a devastating storm
in the white wall
of clouds around me

Sharply I see everything
rush, struck apart, it is
a raging, twirling and

lightly gliding out of the light
into the nothing
Calmly I see everything

dissolve
out of my eye
my quiet eye

To enjoy is to get wet
the cold of the water
dripping in my neck
the soft towel that dries me
with the smell of honey

To enjoy is also: cycling
in the breathable jacket
that keeps me dry in the rain
splashing in the puddles
dancing on the plain asphalt

that places the clouds beneath me

I'm living in meantimes

in a checkout queue or a lobby
at the hairdresser and the laundry
and when I take tit-bits and pastry

I'm living in meantime

when it's quiet in the train
when it's cloudy under the plane
and while I'm singing a refrain

when I'm at a stop in suburbia
take shelter and wait under a pergola
or pass over a few turns

when visitors are not coming
when it is silent after a greeting
and after excuses for early leaving

when friends whine about communication
repeat their stories with every consideration
for a lack of interest in a real conversation

In that meantime, the quotidian
breaks in between the action
I realize that I am alive

The kids are having fun
they run a race around
the marsh, meanwhile trying
to catch the time in this day
of rest, as eternal heroes

In the trees, they build
houses that bear sweet smells

This earthly paradise
for young and old, of reflecting
on the weeks together
to set out with astonished eyes
will never perish

The bowl wiggles
hypnotising light
and dark up and down

Taps of my nail
Pressing the edge down
Slowly following the round

Waves reflect the sun
Fluctuating light
Wiggle bowl

With a stick, I hit a vibrating current
into the bronze, the wooden table
and from my finger to my heart

into my blood, my waving blood
light and dark hum
the maternal tone

of my life up and down
breathe every second
in and out and do not fade

I have fought, still
there are barbarians if you dare
to look behind the mirror

and to step through it
into the real world
of expensively bought wrongprovements

Victories are forgotten
while people celebrate them
over and over again

they will have to be won
till eternity amen
I sign for it

a tick after my name
I have seen life
let's dance

till the music drops

It is a dramatic word: still
Summary of an exciting story
my story and that of everyone living

Still, but in my mind I am already reaching
to the edge of the end, standing
in the gutter of the high roof

to fall and to try what then
But my body refuses the depth
it pushes me back, I can not

glide into the Grand Canyon
on the wings of the eagle
and open my eyes at home

after a world tour, so I still
stand there, a pappus after flowering
and I quiver in nine shades of white

on the edge of the hereafter

Balloons sail above the sea
and in my mind I sail along
into the world, sailing over
flapping laundry

Our shadows glide
through the gate of the winds
breath of the sun and the moon
the whispering of secrets

Our shadows drift
over the sphinx, so that her
blind eyes seem to blink
at us for a moment

The hands of the clocks
on the towers also stand still
and then they jerk forward
a little, around

It attacks me at night
a vague, milky-white sense
that spins around in my dream
like a tornado around my house

Swirling memories
keep me awake, centuries
of wisdom flow through me
not to be lost

In the morning I ponder
rocking on the porch
There is truth cracking
in the wood, it starts

to sing like heavenly harps –
a Milky Wind in my head
that throws everything open, blowing
down my house in front of me

Om Om
All All

Om Bhur Bhuvah Svaha
Earth, All that creates life
Breath, All that takes away suffering
Fire, All that makes happy

Tat Savitur Varenyam
That Energy Principle

Bhargo Devasya dhimahi
The light when my mind is awake

Dhiyo yo nah' prachodayath
Wise is the one who understands

My skin is growing thicker and thicker
with wet paint, all my experiences
covered with a new layer
that changes colour
with the still wet substrate

that slowly dries on my hard core
that no one sees - who I am
in my own memory
as if seen from the inside
which is a fantasy

because from the beginning the outside
world mixed its colours in me
so I can never know
who I would have been
in wartime, drought, or cholera -

a golden hero, rosy-fingered love
or a smelly brown mush
around a black core

Bare buttocks in the berm
free, peeing under my pants
laying down on my side

the world and I flatter
grass everywhere, empty
of chairs

blue flashing light over the dike
I think the sound
to the condensation stripes

My look jumps over
the ditch, sees hided
flowers, I hear beetles

that I don't hear
the grass colours my eyes
it flies upon my tongue

and lets me have a taste
green with marigold
and fresh urine