The courage that comes from the fiery liquids we toss into the blood.

Some evenings she remembers the etching of brambles on the skin of an alien sky.

Blue fish, blue bicycle, red hand.

Black Maria, black widow, red eye.

Melt me down, the voices say, in the innermost of her fears.

Meanwhile, the kestrel becomes a cormorant, the book in her hand becomes the encyclopedia of birds, her bangle a circle of red, knotted thread.

The ladder that climbs to the water tank, the possible precipice of an oil flare.

Bin geborgen, bin drinn
hinter der tür, hassend
Vater – muss dein eigenes kind

(more…)

Stets wei ssich
Warum ich sterben werde

Seit demich euch gehört!
(more…)

dran lockere

logierte Bahn

vernahm luminose Bazille

lordose Beere primat hortus

planier flammt

obere der facht schlechte

publik lungenlose

luminose Tablett

Ich möchte das Land denken.
Je voudrais penser, imaginer le pays,
faits, facts, faites de la terrre et des idées.

Women, men, children,
I have seen, rarely spoken,
but read about them.

So I scanned their appearances
according to the programm,
which others have set up,
nahm sie entsprechend dem Programm wahr,
das in mir läuft und nun passieren lässt:

le paysage,
das Land,
die Landschaft,
le pays, land.

No land fits
to the shadows,
planning casts.

Nomadising
no law, Gesetz,
setzend, verlangend :
nomadiser le verbe,
le pays,
les verbes pour designer
le pays,
la terre,
les idées:

meine Wanderungen,
migrations of words,
migrations des verbes,

mes verbes dans les paysages de moi-même,
law, love.

Jude Law.

“Do you want to be a dog or a guitar?” she said.
And she thought of the cradled arm, the embrace of wood and hollow, the curves that fit, snug, from a long intimacy.
She thought of the knees, bony below the faded jeans, she thought of the clutch at the crotch, the seeming endlessness of dark.
She thought of the thigh, and the nails, and the hair.
She thought of the strings of heart and catgut, of nylon preservative, she thought of the shudder of sound through skin.
Re verb, she thought, a doing word.
To hold, to be held.
“A dog,” she said, “can only be adoration, a red tongue, brown eyes at my feet.”
She thought of saliva.
She swallowed.
She thought of all the words:
Strum and fret and pluck.
Twang, she thought.
“Yes,” she said. “I want.”

Sampurna Chattarji

Deins gab dran

Erlen dahin floss

Getriebe der innere ¨

Pleuel Schieber offene Schnecken

WIrbel reiben

atmeten dann lagen und

flochten sie Teppiche

Tapeten gestammte Ballon

rannte Drache trat

talseitiges Gesicht