language

freewillandnofreewill

free will and no free will
and free will and no free
will and free will and no
free will and free will and
no free will and free will
and no free will and free
will and no free will and
free will and no free will

cliff & self

and our son plays and falls of a cliff
and dies and we think about self
and what if it changes
and we talk of mirror and skin –
the confusion we are in.

what’s happening?

nothing is happening

only magnolia

and mass murder

grounds

we do not need renewed attempts

based on wrong grounds –

we need new grounds.

language of autumn

defeated

but then

there isÂ Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â no devil

language lost

there, we had languages,
three even,

found us.

but none to talk about loss.

language lost.

as i

possibly

if at each crossroads

you have taken the only way possible
and you end up nowhere –

then possibly
you were meant to be nowhere.

books

i would come back to this city just for its bookstores with shelves full of books in a language i dont understand.

but just the smell of these books.

the man gave me one as a gift.

flossen, flowed

the first 15 minutes it is hard.

the first 15 minutes when you are still closer to dying than to finding strength again, where it smells of night and no morning, it is later that you wake up again, when your skeleton is on the alu frame,
when the hunger for words comes back, senseless words, connections i dont understand yet but that will make perfect sense some day, i always take a 2 minute detour through that wasteland plot, just to remind myself that there s still soil underneath all this, ice cracks, soft mud,
chance of failure, chance to get stronger, and then the tree that stands for something i understand no more than i understand those words.

flossen, flowed.