They do not teach us

You were just now
the soothing rustling of leaves.

In the winter, a bird
singing a song
I have not been taught.

There is
enough about you
I,
who am restless
and clumsy,
cannot reason.

I fail to
determine your weight
against the
weightlessness
of this world.

In every case scenario
I try,
but cannot touch you.

The way

we look at one another
from sitting comfortably
atop a secure interpretation
of beauty

bathing our feet
in a basin of
socially fabricated
righteousness.

the way you see me,
the way I see you,
these eyes of ours
long broken.

You might write me nightmares

watch me create my own world out of silence,

granted only half a minute of courage daily.

to love. to need. to hurt.

to forgive. to let go. to repeat.

watch me come back to you.

watch me respond to estrangement 

with proximity.
to mean my promises.

watch me dance around your fire.

it frightens me

you're suddenly so important.

it frightens me

you've already changed me.

it frightens me

you might write me nightmares.

Elephants

the ringling brothers is
ending their elephant acts
eighteen months ahead schedule.

we need to acknowledge it:
the elephant in our living room
doesn't go with the furniture.

maybe it's time to let him go.

Jöjjön

Come on a Sunday

to challenge the house noises

and hide me in your chest,

let's read each other's eyes, 

let's waltz in our private silence.

Calm down the death of roads

that can only lead to 

burning desires,

spell togetherness in 

imaginary languages.

Prepare me for uncertainty,

for the prevalence

of the ephemeral,

for letting go of

the memories we are making,

of the taste of existing around you
that will linger in my mouth

if we ever part.

Treasures

Growing up I had a
jewelry box where
I kept a collection of
stones instead of pearls.
I can only begin to explain
why I save your sounds.

Boy walking tall down fiery street

He's got noble feelings
and big dreams
but small hands,
not made for fighting
- especially not wars
against the will and acts
of giants.

Weak and limited as he is
he still walks on
with the raging crowds,
pursuing the common good
above his own,
he was once told tears
will turn men into boys

by cracking open their chests,
their hearts made visible,
left vulnerable.
He knows now it's the
consciousness of vulnerability
and the imperative of self-preservation
that will turn boys into men.

Time management

He leaves bed,
makes breakfast,
scans the news for news,

does the dishes,

listens to music,
checks his papers,

looks out the window,

goes over a couple of pages

of his current reading,
doodles, babbles, twirls
around the house,

goes for a walk,
hums random songs.

runs a few errands,

takes photos,
comes back home,

writes notes for poems,

gets sick,
lies on the sofa,
spends time with
the walls and ceiling,
forgets about me.

The Golden Rule

It's not about what people do to us,
but the way we react to what they do to us.
A younger me would have confronted the lie
and the man behind it with torn heart and teary eyes

because what could I possibly have
done wrong to be lied to?
Have I not been honest enough,
open enough, enough myself?

A younger me wouldn't have been able
to deal with a man assuming her to be
less than her clever self and therefore
would have confronted the man and the lie.

I have now lived long enough to know
It's not about what people do to us,
but the way we react to what they do to us.
This is the energy we send out in the world.

The post-apocalyptic assumptive world

You're a room
which only opens
from the inside,
I was told,
whose furniture and walls
I anticipate through a spy hole.
But what we see when
we look at things
doesn't really depend on
what is there,
I learned.

Upright

A fourteen-year-old
eyed me unblinkinly
around the classroom today,
as if instead of his plump,
clumsy English teacher,
I were one of the ballerinas
of the Royal Ballet,
flying over the desks
in a grand jeté, 
and offered me a hug
in the end of the class,
for he was carrying
no bouquet.

The art of walking upright here

is the art of using both feet.

One is for holding on.

One is for letting go. 

~ Allen Curnow 

Crimson red

I dropped a
favorite coffee cup this morning
blind with anger
and sat on the floor with the shards.

I, who have always wished to be made
of iron, am reminded
I am not past the porcelain state,
crestfallen in a puddle of crimson red.

Blackout recipe

This is how you erase
two thirds of stars
from the sky:
you grow up and apart
from the people
you are loved by,
then you mark
your path back home
with lamp posts.

And thus we became friends

A wounded animal

I was, 

aching and scared

when we met,

hiding behind

a raging mood.

He watched my 

breath and waited

for a miracle which

wouldn't come.

Yet he didn't flee

or shoot.

Titan

Do you understand

my universe is
so little

I carry
its celestial spheres

like a pendant
on a necklace?

It's so delicate that
by rolling over in bed
sleeplessly
I turn the heaven
on their axis,
causing the stars
to revolve. 

To build things that matter

Don't stay here
if in your heart
you plan to leave
when in a dream
I need you to
just sit in silence
by my side and
you need to be
somewhere else.

Mr. Coffee Cup

(Image by TB)

He sits on the counter
with memories
I don't visit often
and smiles
because he knows it better:
I can't get used to the
English cold.

The first and the last time
we have been together,
the days spent in exile
each of us locked
in his own cupboard.

He smiles
because he knows it better.
He returns to me my understanding
of home.

Listening

On a train crossing Central England
he is not the same man who left
but he's thankful for the meadows and the trees,
weather is surprisingly good,
he's thankful for being home.

To be reunited with innocence,
hurt and pain are unloaded here.
Tired. Shouldn't have carried
so much luggage.
Listen.

Back to his motherland's womb
he is one with perfection
to sing and recite poems to the stars
to dance with the wind and the earth
like a whirling Dervish.

Listen:  Presence - Shy, low

The itch

They see me from afar.
They see me and think they know
what I am made of.

linen, lines, lies on storage -
they think they see me from afar.
They think they think.

They think they see
for they have been granted eyes.
A heart, a mouth and a mind -

They have also been granted these things
and left to discover how to use them
for themselves.

They think they know how to.
They think we're made of the same stuff.
They think we do closeness.

Safe place

Let me be curious about you.

I'm going to ask many questions,
make sure to leave two fifths of them
left unanswered -

less than that would turn us into strangers,
more than that would lead us to
take each other for granted.

There's comfort in the idea of a person
as a safe place and as much as
I'd like you to be mine,

I want to explore every corner of  you
with the same excitement in the eyes
I had when I learned your name.