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,
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

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


“speed up” says the nightmare
“work your — off”
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,

“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

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,

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

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


in dubio pro reo //

this is not a protest poem against doubts/the moon’s new nightgown, sickness, rage,
not a poem against Anything in fact

except stuff that drills little holes into our bones/undiscovered first/
until they cracK/aMessofShards&all we are
ScReeeEAMs, bREAKs,sPReads arms, face down on the floor, hoPeVersusHope//doNt daRe2BreaTHe
—————— until the keeper of the clock bows low

in my hand
a white cane, shepherd’s staff, a snake, spade, satellite, a set of missiles, spear, binoculars, a pen–

we write letters
like we did before “Digital”
flow of iNk, a stamp

the waiting

&all afternoon-after-school magazines tumble wildly through her room
glossy mOuth&chest, price tags in three currencies
we couNt &split them
equally, cross checkmarks in a list,
pile paperstacks onto our bikes,

&share the money

friendship. is the sum of thousand tiny things
i say.

to no one. in specific