From pieces

06.01.2018

— gæst adskillelser, hvor jeg er tilstede og han bevæger sig (afsted). lufthavne vågner i torden. lugten af jet benzin hænger i næsen endnu. mit landskab: (bulbjerg) gæsterne sover i gæsteværelset ingen er døde endnu havtorn blomstrer fugle sover få timer om natten? børn er ude med bare ben til elleve de kalder harer kaniner uden bur de hopper rundt som dem og har haletudser i sylteglas slipper dem fri og føler sig nådige de lår de skubber deres kolde tæer ind imellem i sengen om morgenen bliver aske, så jord og så biller

03.29.18

in this spring of the bird white-crowned, white-throated, anyone miles on end, swedes lane is barely passable from snow drift. still, birds are here. blooming blessed strength and so will we

09.01.2017

there was an eclipse. there she’d love to have seen it one time there was one. up here the world fell dead silent. the light went even paler when she thinks of not looking into the blue of those blue eyes ever again she recall that quietness such prolonged fear of loss. then the loss  that frees the gaze for shifting 

07.16.2017

girl with no daddy, is a barn with no walls   girl without daddy, is a barn without doors   girls without  dads are barns without openings   barns without daddies are girls with no openings     an opening with a girl without daddy is no —   girls with barns are openings without daddies  

04.09.2017

april is the sweetest month! anemones’ rise. as foetuses in acidic soil. pale greetings withstand a winters’ grieve paws or hooves. or hearts make way flavouring buds and shoots a blind recurring grace

01.09.2017

vipperne mod huden. hurtigt. ned/op igen i én bevægelse berøring/af fravær — den mest præcise afstand, til dine døde septembermorgenen i dis solen tung og hvid/hæver sig rødkløver i vasen/fra jorden — det sidste slægtsbånd/i live

12.20.2016

at least six lapland longspurs mixed in with thousands of horned larks easily found by listening for their distinct rattle calls also a single white pelican today. it crossed in low (less than 100 feet away), gained elevation and headed west

12.07.2016

— are you happy? — will you be warm enough?   your skin and your freckles and your fur and eyelashes, all under. for a split second, the rebirth in catching your breath again high tide. 39,2 °f crushed shells from the seagulls. scattered on wooden planks pay attention to not cut your bare feet when you get up out of the water