The Affair


This is a love poem. Who is “you?”
It really is simple.
It’s about my mother.
My life, a summer past

Only my tongue is okay.
snow on the day of her funeral.
I didn’t. She left me.
an abundance of both from me.

You’re poking a stick into an old wound.
You were careless.
Will it make me hateful?
‘Neath the summer sky,

Like a canary that has lost its song.
when the truck hit her.
Twelve years.
to understand her melancholy.

It will affect different parts of the body.
A heady perfume.
That stranger she went with…
He could very well become impotent.

that same old pain on me.
She stayed overnight.
And you received
A silent countenance that says everything.

The statue was heavier than I thought.
You saw that she’s ordinary,
Please remember her fondly.
Victims tend to

she might not have died so miserably.
onto a silent block of stone.
resigns herself to fate
… willingly threw myself into his arms.

Once I became jealous
That’s part of it, yes.
My secret love for you
It broke when it fell.

memorial service was in February.
You can still go back to your husband.
There is nothing between us.
How it gushes like a fountain


Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne


Climbing the stairs I told myself,
I call this a prison.
All her lovers are inside.
a gash across my heart.

Faces from the past.
in the sun.
around and counted more slowly.
bitterness and insults.
at train stations.

I’m a walking ghost.
Why does my heart not leap up
It’s hopeless.
Childlike and noble.
Look after her.

If they were real pearls,
of a languishing love.
You’re suffering.
We don’t see anybody.
It happened gradually,

Don’t tear apart what’s taken
on stairways, in caves,
Her pictures.
would soothe your pain.

the uneasiness.
between us.
It was my heart.
Her life was dancing,
and me clinging like a fool

to scream out the pain I feel.
the consequences of my kindness
It must be lovely
I heard nothing.
I know nothing and wish

Don’t wander far from the waterfall,
cupboards, chandeliers
only proofs of love.
I might fall for another.
Behind these flowers, there’s still

Destiny is tragic,
and I breathe it in.
I turn to counting.
a word you’re saying.
when you dance.

It won’t be hard.
warm, cold, light, dark…
Those flowers ruin everything.
Trees, cracks in the sidewalk,


Regular Lovers


I’ll introduce you to poetry.
It’s called “The ideal bed”.
You can’t make

Short stories.
in cemeteries.
Honestly, they’re not beautiful.

Dark colours are better
Drive through the Black Forest.
Hopes of fire

roar of nothingness

I adore making love to him.
The quiet lightness
seeing oneself and being seen.

in human generosity.
and sex.
a kingdom without laws.

It hurt, to begin with, not now.
that of this life a mirror makes
Let’s get the torches.

Morning is Italian.
Nothing to be happy about.
I’m telling you to shoot me.

The girl waits.
with life getting longer,
It’s a beautiful photograph.

It’s part of a series
for statues.
for the rest of our lives.

the solitude in every man’s heart.
not to suffocate at birth
like a lonely animal in the jungle.

The fear of poverty.
6 months of prison
I never managed to dream

he’s afraid of losing me.
Oh look, a star!
to the barricade that we’d built,

Hating your father
He turns me upside down.
would pretend to love each other.

The anxiety…
where all is painted in an instant
One night we were alone,

And you, little bird…
You scared me.
Face the wall.

Something deep.
of imprisonment
I’d like to leave a note

Whatever happens.
“in oblivion”
Come on in.


The Flavour of Green Tea Over Rice


New leaves are beautiful
intimate, primitive, and comfortable.
I noticed his eyes welling up.
and I was trying to tell you.
We all tell small lies.

Then I felt wonderful,
It’s the same thing.
stars at nights.
Pure solitude.

the peaceful, blue ocean.
I called you.
That black one.
She was in pain,

We have documents
A telegram, please.
She’s fallen in love with him.
for phrasing it that way.
I will. I was careless,

My mother wants
To celebrate.
the Southern Cross.
And I apologised, crying hard.
Women only know

and covered my mouth.
I can escape from all my troubles.
Holding his ashes in my arms
my heart is stirred up…
release it slowly.

Husbands can be harsh.
Kabuki theatre.
I apologised for many things.
Horns sprouting.




on the road, by the lake…
the same room

calling you
Lying on the grass

Your wound has reopened
Weeping like a fountain
everything, for no reason

Keep your jewels
Less than I wanted…
My poor darling

He was showing me his slides
his deathless prose
sick of your scenes…

I’ve been crying
These shirts won’t last another winter
The light… I’d rather it was off

A candle for the new guest, the
the hospital
susceptible to noise

Sleeping pills can backfire on you
they have wandering hands

Place Jeanne d’Arc
Then night fell…
to ruin us

So your love depends on
the dirty work…
the bedrooms again

The husband’s told me
It’s all finished, nothing left.
A real star turn

Come into the light
I’ll spin a yarn and
her aerobatics elsewhere

It’s full of holes
It hurts so
when he falls asleep

But I’d untied her
Help me
… both of us

I’m an aeroplane
At first I believed her,
… and forgave her

landing-stage here
undermining her health
But we’re still here



Day of Wrath


Here is the song of
Bloodstains… Over here.
The tenderness you gave to me
and the lily of the valleys.

I lured
Your wrist.
It’s the grass humming.
Perhaps in my thoughts.

Your wonderful eyes.
Sorrowful, heavenly flood of tears,
one blossom.
reflection in the water.

The sun is coloring your cheeks.
You better loosen your tongue…
Pure and clear…
Yes, it bows in sorrow.

I never asked you if you wished
for all eternity.
a song about us two.

My heart is so full of grief that
I shun mostly myself.
It is no use wandering about in the dark.
with the power mother had…

I wish I could ease your heavy thoughts.
till mine grow cold.
to be mine… I took you.
both of you.

A pear tree.
It grieves over us.
I see through my tears,

You speak so strangely.
a full voluntary confession
of this terrible darkness.
It yearns after its own

I dreamed
We are tied together so closely,
Your fingers.
Release her.

There is nothing so quiet as
Tears that I wipe away.
a trembling, quivering flame
I had longed for.

How alive your hands are.
When flaming heavens together roll,
My grown son.
who died in piety.

Then we hear from his cradle
a heart that has ceased to beat.
I burned for someone to love.
One word more.

I see only sin… and sin… and sin.
from other deathbeds I have sat by,
Wondrous sounds the trumpet sings
That is because I felt





The Virgin Spring


There will be frost tonight.
All under the verdant trees
blue vitriol and yellow sulfur.
Her skin was so warm.
I hear what men whisper in secret
temptation, shame,
before it can blossom.

What’s that pounding outside?
like a bride for her groom.
and my vengeance.
the boy scream.
like leaves in a storm…
Her eyes like the heavens so clear
Rarely have I seen a morning
Says the man who had to flee

Evil men cut his tongue
carrying it on a pillow.
a confessional closer at hand.
And he should say
Flames dazzle and flash
But better to bloom on the road
and eat roots from the earth.
out of his throat.

Here is a cure for your woe.
The blue one,
the way God allows
that from heaven comes.
and an arm circle around you,
And you’re always so soft and weak
In springtime’s breeze
like gold in the sun.

Hands grope for you,
and lash at the rocks.
They worry and tremble
with this bodily bread
with the pearls.
Leave the necklace for Sunday.
and with these very hands.
imprison her in the mountains

I danced
on these poor legs.
and nothing to eat.
thinking of the candles
I bear the guilt.
give me a farewell kiss.
and my Sunday skirt
that swallows up

The sun shone in all its fairness
the yellow shift.
This silk shift
It’s a bit torn and spotted,
but look at the embroidery.
shine all the brighter.
You see how the smoke trembles
and made you forget winter’s rages.

A bird on the wing finds something,
your mouth, your hands.
This is a quiet, lonely place.
It’s black
more than God himself.
You’ve had a crippling winter.
My legs wanted
like devils, all at once.

God forgive me
And grant me everlasting peace
while the cows sink to their knees
Don’t cry so hard.
like a wildcat.
I thought I heard
The streams flow so merrily
yet end in misery.