grains

a view freed from completeness

patiently seeks for the path
in a geometrical
prayer

above the surface the events are being absent

and down at the bottom
shells
through suffering and pain
secrete the pearls

only the clouds have a permission to move

finally what would art do

without still nature
who could handle so much life
without the zooming and freezing of image
here you are also stopped in me
the frame of our picture reminds of a hug
only the clouds have a permission to move
and all these changes in illumination
registered by your closed eyes
are from my palms

there where we are not at the moment

the theatre is emptied
to the last place
we are whisperers to each other
I ask you a haggard question
as a response line
does this mirror have any side for me
and you confess me from there
mother I lied to you
I am still terribly afraid of thunder
where the moth of pain blooms

that is the labyrinth of ear

from whose bowel
it cries out please be there
and this is an earwig
which disappears into it

there is a lodging ready in the arms

where I carefully collect tears
for you to rejuvenate dreams

fer
ti
lizing is this seed
placed under the infertile ground
there in a vicious loop far
where the moth of pain blooms
which is not mine
but it could be
just the same as you
dear modesty

in military booklets

general staff sends prayers to euclid

before the planning of a topographical play
the choreography is natively
underground

because we are all from below

oh countryman

in the core of boiling carbon there is a muster in progress

for some future generations
in military booklets
our best unwritten books
are on a safe place