eigene lyrik, englische lyrik

there goes a nothing, there is to the ellipse: a toad made me cry

i tried to tell you that the moon looked like
the mark my coffee cup leaves on the nut-colored tablecloth
and i tell you that there is sticker on the pen
that says – if the ink dries keep writing
but you bit the lower part of your lip to a frayed mandarin
long before / so i stayed breathing to a rust dotted outside
beneath the gone leaf, the branch the limb the tree the air,
the sky, the nothing surrounding me
trying to in a moment of stifled fear or wish-
ing – i don’t recall, to not fraud the past
but you do you do do look at me
out of too lit up eyes, that were beheaded ornaments
that belonged to what was a field the crop a grain to seed.

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englische lyrik

transoceanic; naked

i bleed in technicolor,
rust or color smudges on transoceanic
books, pondering sitting hands on folded
papers as origami of these hearts

inhaling, to be naked flesh colored
nudes on strewn sidepaths lined in black
currant yet never tasted a numb,
saccharine sweet of the other.

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automatisch geschrieben oder auch nur: übung, englische lyrik

they may tag bees

hoping voices are brittle to the touch till the air
that comes out of their mouths are a modern pile of dust,
weight out and perfectly packaged to crowded stacks that lie
like infinite straws of maybe centimeters apart
from the water everyone will become, so become part

of the water everyone will be. come. likely an alike refers
to the same bus or building or human claw that strips down
indulgant matterless heads of the things created
as bees had become throbbing honey producing matter

warm bees in the sun and leftovers will be tagged,
just as the whale would have exploded his guts into the hori-
zon. so the very fragile may start tagging bees.

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englische lyrik

lighting sidewalks

you are the question mark in eyes
on rain chasing behind sunny days.
the way I feel about rain-
bows, if they take place
though they never stay long enough
and can only be measured by minutes
in our entire life. (when we die,
maybe we will sum up all the minutes we have seen them)

you, the sad child, ignite the street with chalk,
light the sidewalk like a match.
to become colored pie in the sky of some sort.

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