Under leaves and small twigs the creature
lived long enough to see his offspring
grow up
but too short to meet other creatures
except the few he and his family would eat.

When he was dying, the creature
surrounded by three generations of creatures
weakly spoke.
He was the first of these creatures to do so.

The other creatures therefore did not understand him
but his words remained in their memory
and sixty generations later
a creature knew what he had meant
when his first and last words were:
“Life ain’t worth the aggravation.”





The questions grow in number as I age,
my fears increase, my doubts enlarge.
There is no wisdom I have found by now.
Of all the certainties I knew not one survived.

The rainbows come and go these days,
and you once told me I should chase them.
I promised I would try.

I do not even know you understand me anymore. Yet
once I thought our wavelength was the same.
There is so much I should not bother telling.

Of all the certainties the only one that shall remain
is that a rainbow feels like silk. Just go and touch it.
The question is not how it’s done. Nor to succeed.
I hope I got you chasing.


november gets at me,
eyes tired of the lamplight;
you’re not much better too.

wait with me until spring
and bed with me, closed curtains.
expect no more than warmth.

warm nothing more but me
and don’t give in to leaving.
november gets at us.

accept. let go. be tired.
condensated under hail
are our frosted windows.


I awake and the world starts all over
and everyday I am further from you
and I shall forget so much about us.

where does this leave the almost truth?
I shall remember so much about us.
everyday I shall be nearer to you.
I won’t awake and all will be over.

to be awake and asleep at the same time
to feel the presence of a loss
to have nothing but everything
to know all without knowing one fact.

I awake and the world starts all over
and further away I feel from myself
and closer I feel to my own.

so much lies forgotten in truth
whatever the mind seems fit to tell.

you are alright now
and we had a good time together.


real life

she remembers those days in real life
when their old emails joined her
to meet him for dinner

and later their sent messages made out,
liking each other every afternoon, while
she was there in his bed, and they did the same.

her Facebook comments were teaching his
how to make a heart
( < and 3 , no space in between )

and she will never forget how the little creatures,
thousands of them, joined the loving couple
for coffee near the sea. it was quite a parade.

as she and he held hands,
the messages and emails were giggling,
their comments blushed and started to yell.

‘can’t really take them anywhere,’ he sulked.
‘sssh, we are the only ones
who know they are there,’ she said

she is so glad real life never got in the way
of true friends and distant lovers.
of memories and love.

Let them do the thinking

it is best to leave thoughts alone at times –
sent them on a distant walk
to the loneliness of a cold winter forest
or a windy beach in october

have them breathe some fresh air
and make them rearrange their lines,
give them time to heal from pain, from loss,
and let them find wisdom within themselves

while you yourself hang out on the sofa,
eating chocolates, watching telly
in a comfy warm room
not eager for their quick return.

Promise me

That all the dead are soil now,
where flowers grow and trees and corn,
and every new-born life will go one day,

all this your face has told me
in silent moments of our meetings,
in my dreams, in streets, on railway stations,
and sometimes in a bed.

That all the soil is life now,
and that we met and we shall meet,
as we have done; I know.

I bet it’s true.
I’ll be the cauliflower next time,
if you will be the carrot.

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