Crystals form under pressure
Under pressure the sycamore storms
There is no warning today
High tide will not coincide with heavy rain
We can safely hug the shores
Paddle our feet in the seas
Wade into the winds
Walk barefoot over the rocks
Knowing we will not be swept away
Inside every stone is a word
I am collecting them, slowly
So I can sink myself when it comes
The time of no tomorrow
Non limited oyster eating
stopped by the credit card:
An analogy of how we
experience God’s endlessness
infinitely often.
Schlüpfts mir, dir an den Spitzenspritzen
Zwischen Hufeisen (Magneten).
Regst, lenkst Häute,
Dort perlt der Gesang zwischen
verdrehten Fusskettchen.
Zehentippen Hufeisen
Nimm auf die Haut
Fusskettchen, die sich verdrehen
Trippy-toes horse-shoes
Take it on the chin
Anklets twistingin
Sampurna Chattarji/ deutsche Worte: Nils Röller
Trippy-toes horse-shoes
Take it on the chin
Anklets twistingin
snail eyes fly-byes
sing a song of sixsense
ready to ignite
For tropical application only:
Unguents that labyrinth your skin
Into green hideouts
Where only the very agile
Hang out.
Say goodbye to the ground.
In the mossy air of Sog
You will find broken insects,
Whole sigmas of arboreal acclaim.
Hang in there.
Crustacean feelers are rarely wrong.
Before you branch out any further,
Find a hot, moist space, and stay,
Swinging from a creeper that will
Never let you down.
How rich the flora of your gripping vines
You wear your bones on the outside
I will nestle there
Where the pelvis finds its pectoral fin
And swims across the sea of gently-
Pounding blood
That’s all I ask. A millennial sleep
My ear to the soil of your wildly-
Growing garden
(…which came to me seeing the Jan 18th post)
Ein sonnenreifer Moment, der
katzenunheilvoll
alles, was er hat, der einfachen Idee
der Weltbeherrschung schenkt,
indem er sich selbst
um den Ball seiner eigenen Herstellung wickelt,
in die Hände
eines einzigen Takts spielend,
einer Musik ohne Pfoten.
* Vorläufige Übersetzung von Nils Röller
Sunripe moment
Catsportentous
Giving its all to the simple idea
Of world domination
By wrapping itself
Around the ball of its own making
Playing into the hands
Of a single bar
Of music
Without paws
Thumbelina in reverse
Gigantism ails
The world outside
The frame
Shadows would go to
Any length
To impress
Their sense of scale
Upon the miniature
The die-cut
Person
Fits
I want a love out
Of all proportion
That heaviness
Pressing upon me
Colossal
Outside the grid
I haven’t made it
Big
I’ve made it small
I’ve thrown my
Hands up in horror
And stayed