May I have this dance//please?

When we had to leave our house, God put us
in a garden – with a million wondrous plants
We ate chard for eight weeks straight, ribwort and wild marjoram, I sit

in a giant pile of currants as the berry season starts,
weighing and dividing them in plastic bags
All winter, as grey clouds hang curtain-heavy from the sky,
I bake currant cake &every bite sparks
sunshine on my tongue

The compost pile yAWns, stretching slightly, he’s a
sleeping giant, dark&Heavy eye lids sinking deep into the lawn,
sun flowers Rise cheeky from his fingertips// He breathes
in his own rhythm, friend with nematodes, protozoa, flatworms, earwigs, shy to light,
a hidden cosmos with its own agenda, grass still soft/ &moist with dew,

I pick raspberries for breakfast,
sit down on the bench beside the pond, a midwife to the dragon fly
that slowly peels out of her old cracked suit, clinging to a sea rose leaf and
let her wings dry in the breeze— with a

heavy aching heart, we pull out zucchini plants, their leaves
a mess of crinkled, yellow mosaic,
cut ‘em up and put them in the rubbish bin
“You have to disinfect the knife” my neighbour says
“otherwise the virus spreads” ——-I harvest

tons of kale all winter from ten tiny dwarf-like seedlings that grow into giants,
overnight// in spring they change their clothes from deep/green
to a bright and yellow party dress to feed the bees/ they are eCstaTic!

&i’m in a pool of sunlight, sweaty, dirty knees & hands,
added to this ever changing circle//for a moment
breathless, awe-filled witness

to their dance

I’m hosting poetics over at dVerse today. Theme is garden/ing. Come and join us in the 10 year anniversary celebration! Post goes live at 3pm EST

And hey… my most loved garden inhabitant is actually the gigantic compost pile… not very romantic, I know – haha – but he’s a gentleman… and he’s got his mysteries… smiles

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She’s one queen of beauty&speed// a dragonfly quadrille

Her stiff armor, fixed
onto a sea rose leaf as she clings, wings
like parchment, delicately glistening;
I check on her each hour, motionless, &
utmost vulnerable in the breeze, she hangs, slight
juking of the head towards the sun, a_shiver,
wings/spread — &she’s gone

Bri is hosting an anniversary quadrille prompt over at dVerse today
If you want to write one as well, please feel free to join! The prompt goes up at 3pm EST.
I’ll be hosting poetics tomorrow with a garden prompt 🙂

Practicing –to fall

 

The dog is huge
He barks
all the time /at everyone, as if he wanted to tear out our hearts
and put them in his feeding bowl
next to the calf’s liver— bleeding

We do have a deal though,
I’d prefer
a silent glance, I say,
respectful nods—

I practice headstand on a dragon’s tongue, a black hole’s chest, next
to the bleeding liver bowl, small steps, a riddle,
scribbled in pink chalk strokes on a random sidewalk in a foreign place,

“Don’t ya worry too much” he says, shooing flees off his furry head
The globe spins sidewards like a crab, I count
to ten “We all fall,

all the time”
says the lady with frizzy blue hair a the check out

Just between us,
I could headstand as a child, which proves:
the fear of falling is a learned fear, I fall prey –to the night
while deer drink dew off autumn-aching leaves, while birds pick bugs from the sleeping dragon’s teeth, and “suddenly–

it’s easy”, says the dog, licking his feet, refuses though

to take pictures of me in a headstand, balancing the pregnant donut moon,
in the supermarket aisle, on a polished red Ferrari hood, a light september rain
paints dark dots on my path,
almost breadcrumbs, sparkling, leading
down the lane,
a traffic light,
a crow /bakasana —in flight

a crossroad.

.

hey there. anyone around still? i’m totally into yoga at the moment and while standing on my head, the words seem to come back. smiles. see you around

it’s easy to fall in love with sevilla

 

plaza de san lorenzo has a heartbeat that i trace with carbon ink,

doves dance a weird bread crumb rap,

a group of old men drinks black coffee, faces held
as silent offerings into the sun

my bones are stiff from winter

a big snow storm brought me here,
a magic train
a lady with a wand who drags me, talking spanish like big waterfalls, from one window to the next,
a king,
a bridge that no one dares to cross
a broken leg,
a giant backpack

can you feel –her heartbeat?
she asks

i sit silent
at a bus stop
for eternity

as if time was nothing like an empty shell,
a cigarette butt,
dropped on a random sidewalk

as i move, she moves with me,
adjusting to my pace,
she loves me back
and doesn’t

oranges hang ripe and juicy in the streets,
i peel one
put it in my mouth
she’s proud

like a flamenco dancer
&my blood

caught fire in her song

.

hey there – thought it’s time to catch up with you…. smiles
will make my way around in a bit

amsterdam, august 22, by the canal

the evening is waterwings,
tucked neatly
in a golden sunset

my feet dangle off the edge
between canal and sky, boats,
neighbored by a thousand bicycles,

scent of pot and coffee,
amsterdam’s slow breath
i wanna capture it

inhale &blow it back

into the windmills, grachten& small houses
tongue/2tongue to lips—-a prayer 

redbricks, dark as blood,
wind on my face,

the joyful kids’ cheers in the playground
as the sun sinks to my toes
for one last gentle touch

on her path westwards

.

peaceful evening by the canal, praying for a friend & thinking of my mom’s birthday one week later – she would’ve been 90 yesterday
i had a really good time in amsterdam and rotterdam, and read two books during the holidays that influenced my life quite a bit – ha – i didn’t smoke pot though but i honestly love the smell.. smiles

sans soucis

 

the king died on his chair
at 2am

it could’ve ended here

i’m in berlin,
for a workshop actually
“sustainability in fashion”

in the mirror is a man, playing the flute

#my vase
#my robe
#my library

“it’s a copy of Versailles”
says someone

“everything’s a copy of—”
the sewer screams against the honks of cars out in the streets of bangladesh,
bent deep
over her work,
#disposables
worn twice, then piled&bundled up–

her back aches,

almond-colored head cocked slightly to the right,
she’s following the thread’s fine path,
past factory walls, dead rivers– bright
red sky,
and bite by bite it eats
the trees, the fancy clothes, the libraries
king friedrich has collected
eats, EAts, eATs
a hungry beast, born violently,
dressed in rags, deVouRs
the clouds, the day,
the flautist

for a second sp //*Li t –S//

the mirror in two halves

&in the falling,
in the breeze, i see her eyes,
tied tightly

to a piece of fabric

.

two things mingle here – a visit to the castle Sans Soucis in Berlin-Potsdam and a sustainability-in-fashion-workshop I attended in Berlin last week
the thing is, the most sustainable fashion is the one we don’t buy.. we def. have to re-think how we treat the earth’s resources and consider how the goods we use are made.. often it’s not us that pay the price…

you can see it in how they lean into each other when they talk

the night
is thick with fire flies
it’s been ages
since they traveled— bone
to bone
to–

i put lipgloss,
red as rush hour traffic
on my eyelids,
white shirt

“what important things can someone learn on youtube?”
“how to–“
“how to everything” she says
–escape from a closed car trunk,
change your tyres or
cook tofu like a boss

i watch them through a magnifying glass,
an arm’s length
or two lightyears south
of the equator,

sweden actually

they hardly move

or drift apart

or–

“speed up” says the nightmare
“work your — off”
honestly
most of the missiles have been buried

“&the continents–?”

are swallowed

like a piece of cake
left carelessly

on some weird politician’s table

.

sorry – that’s just how my brain works… smiles
a mix of relationship topics, work, my fav swedish youtube channel & yeah – politics… smiles

what i began to understand when my daughter wrapped her arms around me, weeping bitterly

“we’ll all die from SOMEthing” my colleague says, voice light
biscuit pack in hand
“you should take one”

the ingredients are written in czech language, he translates
…butter, milk, eggs

“i’m so sorry but–”

“it won’t harm you”

“that is not the reason”

it is in her eyes
the color of soft soil after a storm, raindrops spilling from her skin,
her third child —-taken
to the slaughterer (like the two others)
&her milk, thick with hormons, antibiotics
pumP_pUmp_PuMped through disinfected pipes,
pacKed up,
labeled with a highGloss_meadowTreeFlow’rHappy cow
the moment as her kid dies

&their blood spills from my fingertips,
covers my lips, chest
as i pour it in my müsli

“it won’t harm me” i say, “it will kill
everything i—“

like the chicks/ bad luck – born male /they’re useLess
for the egg production,
wrong sort to roast crispy on a skewer in warm summer nights as well,
too bad—-produced

to die,
waSte

“that’s why—“

my colleague nods,
turns around&

pLopp PlopP ploPp
tiny, yellow balls on a conveyor,
soft like dandelion fluff
eyes wide with what life may has to offer

Fall into a shredder
loudless

i walk back to my computer, work–

&in my ears
wiping out the printer’s hum

cLuck, CluCK_clucK

—the sound of griNding

.

…in march 2016 I went vegan after my daughter had showed me some documentaries about the meat/dairy & egg industry. i had no idea how the animals were treated in mass production& I just couldn’t bear the thought of causing and adding to their suffering by consuming those products – so – I went vegan overnight – and have never looked back. If you have questions, ask them in the comments – I’m happy to answer &will link (in the comments) to some of the documentaries I watched as well – just in case you’re curious – smiles

 

take your time to spade & ease the soil //don’t plant too quickly

the plane speeds eastward,
dotting fleeting shades upon the alps

“it’s not on the radar” my colleague says

“how’s the app called?”

we hold smartphones high towards the sky,
—tracking

but the military plane
moves undercover, snow-capped peaks
against grey sky
a sunny pool, the form of peaches
where few cows graze
peacefully

the world is changing
with each twirl

men with ties &bleeding fingertips forge big stacks of statistics&–

“they use the cable car” the waiter says
“to move the cows up and down the mountain”

“do they like it?”

“they get used to it
after a while”

i drive the spade deep in the earth, blisters blooming on my palms,
preparing soil for growth
is dang hard work i think,

the cows have disappeared, the plane moves
in a field of varying coordinates

in front of me
a row of herbs, waiting

to be planted

this morning in the garden//i had no chance to introduce myself, nor ask her name

she’s quicK, gone
by the time my lens aiMs, zerOes in& cliCK s
into position

from a place unplugged

i am

hardly connected to the things my world rotates arOund aRound arouNd–

on the clothes horse

on the other side of time
fresh washing
basKs, fragrant, limbs spread in the morning sun

loaded thick with pollen,
small wings, parchment thin move in a breakneck speed,
she hums bee’s chants,
drinking sweet drops from lavender’s purPle lips

that lets her

willingly