wine
remember we drank together tasteless wine from a cardboard box
now I’m even poorer and I drink only your silence
sometimes the thought creeps in that no one knows how to love
sometimes the thought creeps in that no one knows how to live
this psycho killed you with his gun, smashing you like a crystal chrysanthemum
the mirrors of the heavens are not able to reflect your faded beauty
they caught the killer and took his word that he didn’t know about your orientation
so no one will ever say that you are an innocent victim
remember I drank tasteless wine from a cardboard box
imagining every time that one day I will drink this wine with you
Water-reflections first
I look into the water – in response everything speaks to death:
This smooth immobility of the snake-current
This stone speed of the scarab of minutes
This time spent and hours tired of delaying our term
In my palms like foliage and like pity
In my palms crumpled worried water
The lips of the deceased will forever remain dry
And there above the depth of the air another river flows
The starry current like marble milk splashes out of the banks
This is exactly what silence looks like and this night is endless
I cannot touch this river I am incapable
And young death like lightning floats out
No one is able to speak either in words or thoughts
We are close to you like chicks to a nest
Endless breadly prayedly death
We are far from you like chitin from a trembling body
Uncomfortable cast-iron bitten death
A bone will grow from my belly
The rain will pour and the garden will bloom as before
Glass moonbeams will calm us all
We have all overcome the fear of swimming
We are all drowned
The impossible to pronounce lover’s seed dripped down
I had no choice but to lick this sperm from the boot
This night everything began anew and the morning is like death
And the morning like death knocks on the closed room
I was again left in this bedroom absolutely alone
(Did anyone ever truly love anyone or was it just faith in your love –
Love as an extended ego as rightness)?
No one watered the iron flowers
Imaginary emptiness
someone in a raincoat standing on the edge of a bus stop beats time out of himself
*beaten time hurts unnecessary like a candle*
I ask a mysterious creature: who are you: but he doesn’t remember
it starts to rain for the first time and again: my lips drink milky and chitinous silence
a man is a mystery like a sail dissolving in puddles bubbles voids
and with him everything around dissolves and it seems to me that life is only a dying vision
scarabs of minutes crawl along my *what is it called in books and dictionaries* leg
in the distance I hear the footsteps of the water of the future and like stones or beans fall on my head
these are your eyes father I suddenly think and then I understand that my father was eyeless
*many became crippled after this or one of the subsequent wars*
but what if this stone is only my former form of silence and the absence of which I was floating in my mother’s belly
I don’t know
in this world there are no objective things and ideas worth living for or believing in:
realizing this would help get rid of many of humanity’s problems\
or I don’t know/
rock-filled nothingness
I looked around
emptiness reflected in the mirror
and the mirrors without me are directed at each other
*silence has no friends: only imitators*
I screamed like a wave washing away the sand castles of childhood and adult dreams
fear and despair are driven into the open belly
meanwhile the shore grew to the size of my belly
I fell silent like a wave that washed away forever the sand castles of childhood and adult dreams
morning crept up unnoticed like the flag of the crow king in the black forest from which I emerged as a baby
this forest robbed me this forest stole me at birth and appropriated me
a cloud of ashes floated over the heads of the decks and the sailor fell asleep and looks at the stars in his sleep
will this dream ever end or will the sailor never move from his place
I don’t know and I don’t know
and we both don’t know
and we take a step towards each other
and for the first time and again I see myself as a bee with three hearts
the first heart for love and feelings
the third heart for blood
the second heart for sharing with others
like a bee with three lives
the first life for honey
the second life for the swarm
and why a third life is needed no one knows
and I I don’t know
and I don’t know
and we both don’t know and we stand touching with empty red veins
and we both sacrifice the silence of our home for your words
*I haven’t been expecting words of love from you for a long time
Lord*
and we both sacrifice silence but you are silent
and this rain is like an infection of happiness for no one
we go into the garden but the garden turns out to be a forest
I don’t know what a forest is and I leave this coffin as a corpse and a living being
I inevitably slip on a piece of glass and prick myself until I bleed on the marble ice
and I pass this bread and wine to the birds having already lost hope of finding the crow’s kingdom
the other me screams:
but suddenly I remember that I am all alone
but suddenly I remember that everyone dies alone
but suddenly I remember that everyone has their own world and every world dies because the ability to live and move the minute hands of a clock means simultaneously and continuously dying
I fancied flowers without graves or graves without flowers
a forest of minute hands of a clock grew in front of me
the path led me to a gingerbread house made of meat
corpses of flowers screamed under my feet like suicides because every birth means a quick death
bones or flowers? crunching under your feet or inside your chest?
the forest doors closed and I found myself on the outskirts of the city near a bus stop
what is this?
someone in a raincoat standing on the edge of a bus stop beats time out of himself