how shall the riddle of thinking be solved and
how the one of the flame?
words with the flavor of scars and roses resounding
in the cellar of life where the hole in the heart
is as big as a truck and dawn
lies shred and mangled
time and expired existence dread
a new reality reasoned
by a chance erased before being read
the sun rises while you
are sleeping in a shining reticle
not knowing with whom you are or
what has happened; forever scarred
by the past that lingers
living nearby yet very far
where will you be
servant of your own experiments or
dj of thought whose mixer is your scientific tool
to design a bizarre universe of sound?
you are roaming around
restlessly abhoring vagueness while you breathe
the wind in the rhythm of time
a caged bird is singing so sweetly
to scorch your soul as you kiss whom you
hold now close and dear
like an asteroid lighting on a trajectory
you smile to understand
the bird in the cage is trilling in minor chord
while the torch is gently rotating;
you open the window to dreams and stars
and the wine you drink is as red as your heart
and the night is crying

taut as a string you cannot rest and
have to send out sparks forever

i am nothing, you say, and your laboratory
is vibrating and flickering just like your soul;
it is wailing and howling when you touch the wires
of mind or fiddle on your veins or blow the
yearning trumpet of love;

i am nothing, you say, and are sure
about it, because
everything else is uncertain

life is a propitious prophylaxis of death
a blissfull illusion
a beautiful rose

witchcraft of mind
firmament for the heart


is the truth true? your hand your own?

sixty-two ways to support the head while thinking;
your thoughts flare up like flames, logical and indistinct,
precise and confusing;

your formulas, your slogans that you
hang up on pegs to set on fire later on
disintegrate into dust before being tamed

criticizing the human as a hypocritical creature
you are loath to the process of thinking
yet cannot stop; you ride on words while
you have already dismissed the written idea

nothing is certain, nothing is sure

everything is flaring up and fading away
and nothing but the attempt to understand
with heart is burning in the night of shadows

how shall the riddle of thinking be solved and
how the one of the flame?

your hands are baskets to be filled with pearls
your thoughts birds that fly gracefully through the night

your hair is an abstract of dreams
and i long to touch it

as dawn dust comes on quieter than silence
and light slowly creeps
filling space

i am not sure what it means to roll
in the moving motion of time and light

i am not sure what it means
to dine on slices of september moon or if
the herbs of tomorrow can spice
yesterday's dreams

i shall drink cinnamon and stars while
the world is asleep
the heart a flame and blue
with wonder

i shall caress the sand that is left
between toes and teeth and behind eyelids

and cry pearls and flare up laughing

i am soaked with light and the gold of a thousand
suns and a thousand ways to love and the burning of the sky

i am everything
i am nothing
i am the paradox that is eternity in the moment's universe
i am writing down words
so the wind can hear me

and call them across

among the plankton of my vocabulary
phosphorozing in the dark
to listen for sweetness

a million surfaces without a tongue

lineament of dreams


zeit und eis

night talk into dreams

the sunny tang of summer


only in dreams