An Elephant Sitting Still


This is the cue
The way you are
Take your things
You’re so dark
I can scratch your car all over
“then your whole life is gone”

No one truly knows about existence
your skin peels off
That agony has begun since you were born
I can’t find him
Not the fighting part
It’s carved with words

New place, new sufferings
We’re separated
My hands tremor sometimes
Don’t leave
You are nothing

I’m ruined
(Missing Dog)
I didn’t feel anything
He wants a copy for himself
I put it under the mattress
But ended up kneeling down by the river,

He found some stones
The suicide guy told me one week ago
Running north
You go wherever you’re supposed to go
because I don’t want to sleep with you
So I have to sugar-coat it

He asks the fisherman if he understands poetry
He beat up a piece of trash
and blood will remain on the cigarette
We’ve never met
I was on the other side
I want you to know

(Surgical Department Zone 1)
Tolerable food, TV sets
The world is just disgusting
It leaves no marks
I saw your mother
singing a lullaby


Portrait of a Lady on Fire


My hands.
steep and dark,
In solitude,
the charms of exile.
must yield to the cheek,

Uncover your throat.
and study its cartilage closely,
In deep silence,
Some feelings are deep.
the first time I wanted to kiss you.

Your eyes are closing.
My marriage.
Arch your back a little.
Her poor hands
hanging on the wall.

you bite your lips.
Then the storm breaks.
The Benedictines.
they took a sloping path,
to infinity.

When you asked if I had known love.
unravel the thread
and then it vanishes.
You can float.
Yes. A little.

Say what burdens your heart.
Its tone, even in light,
She said it makes time last longer.
of a warm and transparent hue,

Your presence is made up
With lightning and the wind.
I saw her broken body below.
except for the hole,
I’ve dreamt of that for years.

Organ music is pretty but bleak.
for drawing in my notebooks’ margins.
Here, they seem to be saying goodbye.
Head straight up to the trees.
even if covered with hair.

won over by his words.
The outline.
Deep breaths.
See how my arms are placed.
It’s all I know.

for fear of losing her.
Dying a second time,
Not everything is fleeting.
The cherrystones hold it in.


Belle de Jour


have the blonde.
Every day in my thoughts.
Rich and idle,
A very moving religious ceremony
Your skin is whiter…
I am a man of another age…
But I love best…
The black sun.

Sometimes, I even dream of you.
I broke a vase…
especially your eyes.
and your hair softer.
The snow.
– If only you were less cold.
Look at my hand.
of dead flowers.

The same curtains…
called Beauty of Twilight.
a feeling for death.
a pair of legs.
– A knife wound?
Semen retentum venenum est.
A very fond memory.
A buttonhole.

Women completely enslaved.
She’s a pearl.
with no furs, no hope, no nothing.
It must be painful sometimes…
Worms are eating your heart.
I’d have slit my father’s throat
He’s paralysed
To the most precious

Nearly all women who seek revenge
I think of them when it snows,
I want to kiss you.
Do those places still exist?
well brought up girls.
a feeling for death.
We must find you a name.
Six letters with an A.


Our Little Sister


Mothers and daughters…
You puncture them like this…
I was too little to remember
a bright red nail polish.
stolen from her.
Brings back memories.
Smoke from a crematorium

I’m not a treasure.
I only date useless men.
and losing things at the last minute.
Someday, I want to walk under
as many lives as possible.
I’m sorry.
every year.

Fill in your parent’s name
of nowhere.
Look, she has a beauty spot here.
Just a little mountain climbing.
when you’re staying over.
Falling in love
to the grave.

we enjoyed the blossoms in the hospital.
all your shells here.
Kind of sounds
“Those cherry blossoms
Oh, a summer kimono.
are reflected on the sea.

“I’ll be gentle with you.”
all her troubles to herself.
The tips are ragged.
Just like her,
As soon as the float starts sinking,
The Night Aquarium,
…they left a treasure like you

depressed is a real challenge.
belongs to you all now.
It’s wide open.
It’s hard for me to talk about my dad
It’s strange that you’re more
You only see the bright side.
with so few photos.