lately in the down
fall fingers graze
hand’s width over wood

the eyes locked up eventually
with lids and no choir
and slack the mouth opened in sleep

one says “come”
on and shrugs
while descending a small ladder

step
here it becomes obvious
this love is at its end

the seeds are blown towards the bridge
field poppy, clover, the last rapeseed
from the balcony the gaze travels far
forest edge and banana-ripening-plant
green by ethylene to yellow
a thousand nautical miles later
the refinement takes place on site
of the consumer’s stand:
good since fresh
the peel like sleek plastic
sterile fruit body, sits perfect in the hand
make
more bananas for Borna

barely then
as well de-spoken

i speak broken
not german

i speak broken
the language
in pieces, in chunks
a crack

it stumbles on
it’s last leg
in the ruinous
sentence

more glass than beech
more hairdryer than tub
he honorable donkey is i

barely then
is also promised misspoken

barely then
as well

two parallels will intersect
in infinity
two parallels will intersect
in infinity

both eyes wide
open both
sight lines intersect
in the counterpart

slight squint
platinum blonde
gold tooth
a bird in the hand

i know many people
i decided
to not meet them any longer

when it gets dark
i go night-blind
in one eye
usually it is the right one

cluster

two flags
open up expanse
your blond hair spread out
in the car park
falling towards daylight time.

when all are off
attuning

then
driving faster under ground
to where the least is to be had
where halls lie stark
on generous planes
(pavementrapport)
where time does not matter at all
there
we are allowed
to run down patterns.

the horizon a low threshold
collects us.

nervous characters
serve up
group cluster
on pavement honeycombs
endless
to the cloud tableau.

toecaps
which feed
formations into
the dance floor

inventory
figures
in balloon silk
and open flowing jackets

the ascent
in any event
imperative

you just duck away
under the side of the hand
eyebrow, salute

applause beforehand
head to head

to reach into the jacket pocket
scares the phone from its burrow

a thread
from the labyrinth-
thesaurus

the bird is made to fly to fly away
need to work during the flight of the birds
just observe their patterns in the sky
before the eye returns to the numbers
need to work till the flight is done
need to work till the work is done
till all birds gone south
beats me what they do there
yet meanwhile need to work
till the birds have returned
till the work is done
i dont know what work is

i ex
tend the hand
you ex
tend the hand
we spread
out the arms
decency
towards distance

on A
on B
on C
on D
on E
on F
on G
on H
on J
on I
on K
on L
on M
on N
on O
on P
on Q
on R
on S
on T
on U
on V
on W
on X
on Y
on Z

you can’t
rely.

(…)
and
the sun was still visible
between the metal sheets

as the forearm
presses deep into
the throat’s dream

i undertook a flight
movement bit
the pillow
and awoke puzzled

it then sounded just
like a heavy
book fell to the floor
as the tenant
shot himself

gloss on the ground
makes passers-by
stagger

there is no word of grief
maybe just
the attempt to
reflect oneself in a house façade

repeatedly i have
picked up this book
and let it fall again

the door seems
to have snapped shut
while we
held fast onto our own
hands holding
respectively

(…)
and
soot outside in the snow
which is starting to melt

the sun rays flash
and the shadows are also
freshly ground

glow
fiery-, after- ,alpine-
on the way to the mountains

i rather like plaid
and a finger
to the lips
before the kiss hits the temple

i dream of overview

which expanse
no shore
grey over grey
hand over hand
while climbing the rope

open minded
to be hoped for
looking for a while
on tombstone sample images
on the smart phone

they seem to come
with flowers

sways the wit
from our youth

all that’s right
is left for dead

(…)
and
how you like this
i don’t care
age appropriate

bone constructs
are sustainable
for skin boundaries
softly cushioned

cheek to cheek
heart to heart

affectionate
unlike birds
fluffed up

tangible
not yet flown open

always run
with the right ones

the ground in front of the garage
run clean
to turn our backs
to friends
not foes

apart from that
we always
looked
elsewhere
and in the end
away

at the station the straight tracks start
trek through the empty range
mere concrete unwashed
two plum trees along the way
rot trodden their fruit
corrosive suburban lore
who does trek there does get caught
sweaty palms in Hegyeshalom
silent glances at the blue-green padding
and water and no words for it
orderly escape from regularity
which cannot be abandoned
like the skin like the maps like the on-board restaurant

a last escort
across a lawn
that still
has the winter inside

beneath branches still doubt in the green
the hole circular proposed
to lower oneself down

to dwell
the question is why

a tumbler full of tar
on the sideboard
alongside a vase
with cut flowers
and kneeling a smile
with white teeth
behind

widespread the corpses lie beneath the trees
an air draft touches someone else’s child on my arm
time still
waiting to throw her rose
up to the next grave
then coffee
evening
night

the poem stands on the clearance
a breath length ahead
no woods indeed
no trees
black masts
(sail blank)
vocable storm
like transmission lines
towering into the sky
(flying sparks in bridge voltage)

slowly the verse rotates
(ducks down)
timidly looking
after itself

for this shot there’s neither penalty nor prize
“just between the eyes, that would be lovely
for the sake of decency”

is hunting down
the right approach
broadside shot nor against the wall
on the page instead
(around the corner)

when is rhythm to be found in the circumstances of life
and are we only trailing with words
lines that we have already
seen before

like archery life is
a discipline of repetition
(catch lines whirr through the air)
in writing variation is allowed

forth from the ground
stirs

root
trunk
branch and
twig

unnatural
at night

tumble
over
run
into

getting caught
snapping

the arm stuck in the sleeve sticks to it
outer constraints we endure
inner constraints we display
a handrail leads out

light crushed – curves, straight lines
in compact space – henceforth & end
glass fibre far – point, toss, suspended
broken bunch – lukewarm, off & on
red light curves round corners – vein up to the heart
steering, in safety – think oneself and gone again
estates flicker in absence – artery, pulse, stroke, second
ends up confused – bundle, fan, bulb
redemptive genuflection – plunge into cover
here & now – intervals brief
and the end is nigh – plastic bag, bug out bag
paracord & nylon – spirits, black & full of function
the eye as far as darkness – here today sheer future

Someday I’ll wish upon a star

the crude oil’s gloss on water surface
strikes circles, peacock feathers, tar
like rainbow
somewhere over
way up high
here by the mirror doubled to a ring

patterns, shape, you realise concentric
proceeding from a pebble’s impact point
rushing away to the shore
chiming the brink, after all drops
have fallen in
children scream, growing up
There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby

Here
while the boulder is sinking
with its sandstone layers
down to the bed
in slush pale green, turquoise
two bodies high and upright under water
no bluebirds above
eagles circling
Why then, oh why can’t I?

seven lakes
wind comes up at this one
and branches down
presses them and tears blossoms away
almost silent in flight movement
of wide wings
vigilantly floating above ground
viewed, targeted and scanned
radioed in with no hearing
condemned here
with delicate glasses heat seeking
Where troubles melt like lemon drops

from notion to target
premonition pointless, a nation under god
everything else defenceless
skies are blue
beneath blue skies

summer’s day
jet trails
are cirrus clouds
not even a pyrrhic victory
And wake up where the clouds are far
behind me

That’s where you’ll find me
against nature
against better judgment
the presumption of innocence
against
back at the lake where strangers meet
more than light falls through the clouds
And the dreams that you dare to dream
really do come true

a thousand drops under the radar
mist once more over the lakeland

have lost sight
with the head altogether
in which the eyes are plugged
like impacted projectiles

images straighten
seize up
the ocean
the quiet sea
in the horizon like an axe blade

the mirror fogged
and traces of dust on the silver tray
thrown down in clothes remnants

tumbled backwards in the sense of
heavily backwards in the sense

“the turnpike is forest damage for a toll
from the time before the moths stopped loving lavender”

wind noise
in flapping tarps white
below the red dust
of this soil

wasteful maneuver of a flow of air
in the updraft
wrested
from our grasp

here on the edge
i lay down as a wreath
the spectrum of depressive disorders
for you

the world
here yours alike
spins to pure white
with its cloud bands
in an orbit
our verse, universe

throbs your brow
below the wet cap
jet set ahead of running currents

to altogether forget
fractured on the sink
in a hand
are flowers too white
to change to blue
in yours

steps strike heartbeats, beat
or seconds even, flight sore
we strum, pass up commandments, in strict time
sixty to sole, ceramic, glaze

the best place inside foreign body
the oral cavity

between the plants
in swirling green
the fish scurry
unless:
they are in the mood
& feed on their children
later:
light-finned rest
in the scrub
certain:
i conduct biotope-aquaristics
only sleep well by the pumping click
at the pools edge:
inhale deeply, immerse, float
on the sofa the idea touches
it would be good to have sex tonight
did you know:
to stay awake longer in the evening
signifies dusk to the fish

how resilient
is language
if die
is part of
diversity?

Now he takes the arm
holds fast and says
always the same
just with different words.

I turn the mouth
attached to the arm
silently laid down in the lap.
Then he took a snap shot.
It’s really weird
how I sit here.

handle with care
candle with hair
candle with hare
handle with hare
handle to ear
trouble with hare
hare dead.
stock pot.

The hare is dead, the hare is dead /
The hair is dead, the hair is dead
it can not coo no more
cocodicocoda
it never coo could
neither hare not there
whats that supposed to be anyway

emotions
on
mere
quick listening

faces
issue themselves
to one another
talk
each other
into comfort
bodies bathing
carry the can
for trivial
appear together
in

front of an audience

soon there wont be night trains any more,
just the kind, that with
cargo at night
stutter through the valleys
no disc brakes
no plastic croissants
served in the morning
by a rumpled attendant.
only car suppliers, which
order sealings,
in the morning sleepy they discharge
the wagons in the plant.
onto the assembly line the sealings
into the motorcar with them
drowsy eyes in
the cities tungsten light.
off the line wrapped in plastic
onto the train to the
point of sale, waiting there
parked.

just gets his car
and parks
it elsewhere


meanwhile inside still being calculated
in the tent gymnastic groups warm up
move adding
on the highest level anything can be computational clinched stretched
and spread bickering equipment true bars
contorted at the climbing wall recoiled feet
arrived in the soft floor mat dent deep rounds off
a ball suspended in mid air to catch
then the next already launched from the machine
gets caught
derived by the net

misses
twisted leg
pressed armpits
amazes
me not

can still
be potentiated

yet i get
into the car

half the year is already
run out like a lapse on the cinder pitch

the dust only shifts in the city
the wind in the woods is different every day

no air draft here
just light beams dance down distances

the words in which we speak
already lie sound asleep

all gates torn open
like a traffic victims skull

off the teeth’s white neon light
glances off equally fast to any other

the sun is empty
a frequency on the radio

we can turn every stone as long
or smash to smaller pieces

till sand remains
and never wind

01 violet dull red tough runny tar 13
02 flower violet bloom leaf white engulfs 12
03 tar blood violet rust dark tar 11
04 warm blood hand violet warm cold 10
05 dark arm sinks deep violet tar 09
06 black warm salt white tight violet 08
violet over dry skin tar dull dead violet
08 pale warm deep strain through violet 06
09 fight under deep blood violet tar 05
10 dot dull red violet warm dead 04
11 dead time violet black ground absolute 03
12 tar violet swallows black mirror blind 02
13 violet warm entire tar salt dull 01

according to the facts one would, actually,
be a person of power.
in contrast stands
ones own experience.

on the window pane a wisp
remained

lips like glass
split
within the tune
to dance
drank anything going


full glass
in the night
took away the bottles
two days later

i did listen to all the tapes
labeled
sorted and put away
there was nothing there

just airplane sounds in the background

loose boards
then a drizzle
directly into the fields

we scooter
collide
in red in blue in green
we flash
intertwined behaviour
of bodies driven into a wall
hasty this is how you are with me
and me with you

in the forest distributions
where construction shall take place
or directly into the fields
excavation
sunset through the cloud massif
recitative this is how it used to be
the grass line chewed up
shrouded green

airplanes
a notion

he

still mourning his household
yet attached
to the neck pouch


has left the door open
and exited early for


the first interview