you are the love that blows my sails (2010/12/11)

you are the love
that blows my sails,
that fills my chest
with laughter and with
tears, unshed.

you are the breath
that dries my sweat
you are the towel
that wipes me down
whenever I get wet.

I could do without.
Could handle towel,
wet, and rain,
dreams that silently
go down the drain.

Learned, in effect,
to deal with the dull,
learned to breathe
while watching life cull
my all-too high-strung
aspirations.

As it is with nature's bounty,
I've never known the
when or why
for your love and friendship
I did and still do
qualify.

It just is.
So, in times of solitude,
I steer my bow to you.
Try quietly to give
of what blossoms
here – in part it's due to you.

You are the love that
blows my sails, gently,
unnoticeably so. I'm grateful for a
life, that chose to make it so.

für A.

Crazy house of love (2010/12/11)

your house is crazy.

ah, and how I love you

for that crazy house,

with the patio and the

garden overflowing

with flowers, potted

and in beds.

your house is crazy,

don't the neighbours

say so? and they should

know, as they've been

married to each other

for decennies...

your house is crazy,

the walls outside painted

yellow, twice -

did you ask the landlord

for permission?

your laughter all the

answer I need.

the ledges, painted red,

lipstick red -

suddenly, a foreign

country lives in a loud

back yard.

your house is crazy.

beneath the wild wine,

you hang up trinkets,

a mirror being the most

inocuous one.

Do you know you have

half of an arm dangling

on your wall, I said

recently, sipping sweet tea

during breakfast. Your

laughter, again, the

only answer I need, or

want.

You eat, and lick the

spill from your fingers,

which your lover takes

over doing - „I can't get

it off, she keeps tasting

sweet“, he says, after having licked,

and licked... and we

all laugh, shy wonder and

gratefulness mingling

in me, the smiling witness,

whom your generosity has

helped to heal much envy of love.

your house is crazy. from

two flats, you create paradise:

A loft in the girls' room gives

them so much universe to be

in. Liam's room which David

now shares, where your things

are stowed safely in a huge

storage rack – the eye being

caught more by the orange

canopy under which your son

will sleep at night, gently easing

down the high ceiling to create

a protective space.

your house is crazy, I said,

but maybe I have

misunderstood what being

crazy is all about. is it crazy

to not bother closing the

bathroom door because the

idea of voyeuristic intention

doesn't cross the children

passing by? Is it crazy to

steal huge slabs of stone from

riverbeds at night to recreate

some of what you love about

the countryside outside your

front door?

Your house is crazy. It breathes

colours, trinkets, beautiful stones,

flowers you either grew or

stole somewhere, „From a front

garden,“ you scream with

laughter and excitement,

and after that, I've started

thinking differently about

collecting flowers from public

parcs. Would my parents let me

play with you if we were still children?

Your house is crazy, It must run in the

family: I've seen your old place, and it

was crazy, in that way, too,

with your intention of making

a home apparent in everything

you took yourself to. And

after your husband cast

you out, you just grew it

anew, where fate cast you.

so the skill, well – babe,

it's just the way you breathe

love on everything that you do.

Your house is crazy. I'm glad

I'm starting to take after you.

My house isn't crazy, but

I'm learning to let myself be,

and gladly so – hoping one day,

I'll be just as crazy in love as

the two of you.

für J&A

Zimmerschwarze Augen (2010/11/01)

Zimmerschwarze Augen
welche der Nacht erlauben
sich jäh zurück zu ziehen,
um dich! strahlender
zu fassen,
in samtig-rauhem Sturm.
Mein Herz - es glaubt dies kaum.

So duster und so finster,
und mitten drinnen, du -
es braucht nur mehr ein
Zwinkern, dann finden
beide Ruh'.

Das Augenlid, es
zwinkert, der Traum
zerbarst zum Tag. Das
Schimmern ist der Morgen,
der birgt, was sich nicht
sagt.

1.11.2010

letting go (2010/08/26)

Fingers cramped,
heart and sight
- tight.
Ache of not
enough, breath
- or love?
Letting go, unreasonable,
not to,
unreasonable
not to,
yet I can't let
the dusty bones
of those memories
go.
Sometimes, they need
to really crumble.
Still. Sometimes, I
don't want to let go.

Für ein paar Tage (2010/08/20)

für ein paar Tage
habe ich mich in ein
großes Kind verliebt,
das Mädchen nur in Frauen
sieht.

ich weiß nicht wie,
ich hatte es lieb, lieb, lieb.

samtweiche haut,
schnell braungebrannt,
hab mit finger und lippen ich
liebkost und heimlich mein
genannt.

doch der mann,
als der das kind verkleidet war,
ist leider noch nicht reif
noch gar. und doch,
in einem warst du klar:
will nur tun, was ich will,
nun, ja!

das half auch mir,
denn ich blieb stehen,
über klar benannte grenzen
kann ich nicht gehen.
und wieder einmal
riss mich begehren,
wollte die stille zärtlichkeit
meines herzens entehren.

dank dir und der umstände
ward dem nicht so,
und mein herz ist froh,
's ist besser so.

wie das kind, das im herzen
ich auch bin,
ging ich nach deiner abreise
ein paar mal hin, graste den
strand ab auf der suche,
nach grün, der farbe die du aufschriebst
in meinem buche.
und schicke dir mit freundlichkeit
den gruß vom strand und einsamkeit.

pebbles (2010/08/16)

So many pebbles
on the beach
so many goals
I could try to reach.
The pebbles are hot,
made scalding by
the sun.
My wishes burn
asunder, fired
by the deepest
one.
No goal – just
a yearning,
sometimes smoldering,
sometimes burning.

16.8.2010

Dhermi

love without expectations (2010/08/12)

Love that doesn't
want
doesn't expect
is only to get
by letting die
the part that
wants, expects -
so who'll I
be once the
dying is done?
And dying is
going to go on
for how long?

brazen emptiness (2010/08/12)

The great emptiness
swaps ashore
laps me up
like part of me
would still like
your brazen eyes
to do.
Sadness weighs my
heart.
I'll follow – soon enough.

enough sightseeing (2010/07/25)

I've had enough panorama views
enough Rocky Mountains
and far-away places blues.
I've plenty of times seen a full
moon over splendid skies
- but they no longer make
my heart soar high, and here's
why:
This soft, soft heart of
mine for the depths of
darkness and the unknown plunges,
though in doing so, against chains
of wantonnness
it lunges.
So now, this full moon
for all its beauty and grace
by the longing for That
has been replaced.

neighbours (2010/05/29)

shamelessly he assumes
I recognize his voice
answering a phone call
on a Saturday night.
I do,
and find it useless
bristling at what part
of me names
arrogance
because it's all too true.
Though he rarely calls
I do,
recognize his voice,
the false cheeriness
varnishing contempt and
the even deeper
sorrow, desperation.
When me meet,
I see a a hard jawline,
tanned skin taut over
a rather square and
delicate skull.
His skin I know to be
amazingly soft for
someone who does his best
to be a brute.
Baby-soft skin over
taut stomach muscles
- yes, we've tangled limbs,
just once, enough to cherish
deeper, enough to know
we're not meant for each
other.
When I look at him
through the spectacles of my
heart, I see softness,
gentleness, humor,
and love, though it
may have run astray,
as far as love ever does.
Now I can stand my ground
in front of those electric blue
eyes, in front of the often spiteful
babble, unfortunately very intelligent
at times. I just smile and change
the subject.
He likes me enough to acquiesce.
We're good neighbors, all in all.

safe again (2010/01/16)

I feel so safe
I feel so safe
I feel so safe
in this world
that is so unsafe
in this life that is
so unsafe
where death is
imminent
since you
never know
when you're
going to meet it
in this life
I feel so safe

it's your love
that's been
safeguarding me
all these years
all these years
I was so scared
refusing your love
meant refusing
life
now that I've let
my guards down
I can feel safe again.

new day (2010/01/12)

why live?
it hurts to be alive
what pleasure there is
I derive from
my predicament
the role I've cornered myself
into
over the many years
peace is elusive and
promises nothing but
the cessation of my
identity
who will I be when
I cease to fight
for the right to
be me?

and yet
on the borders
of my mind
looms silence,
promising
a new day.