ah, du taler sådan her det er sådan sproget lyder: lav horisontal mudderstreg måne over øresund pludder farvet morgenstund en gris er en gris er en flæskesteg  blod der render ud i storebælt  slimede muslinger i limfjord  deres keminova-dna porøse perlemor industriæg landkylling sorte skovstiers forhistoriske  bregnefingre, fåreuldsdupper  hænger fanget i stødhegn  kuplede vild gulerodshoveder  deres harsknede lugt din harsknede lugt. ah, det flade land og dig

be a lotus: you are awakened by a word said out loud to you, it is not “ice” though it is somehow relating to “ice” or it relates to “writing” or it relates to “being.” you can’t seems to explain this better than “one word” is all the practice you need, though you cannot bring this word with you back into daily consciousness then you see a lotus in three layers, divided down the middle, like a section cut: one, stem. two, lower petals. three, upper middle or seed head. so, you ask; “what do you want?” and it answers…

dreamers:  you be a girl with a pile of white  bones and teeth. a shape resembling  antlers entangled in there too  your heap is coming undone  crumbling as skeletons in the desert  you be a girl having conversations  with your bone-heap, asking childish questions  like; “why are we alone” or “does a whale have ribs?”  cause you keep dreaming you have this  whale-rib wand  you tell the heap  you are afraid the lump in your chest  is the tip of a deeper, diving issue  that perhaps all your inner oceans are  contaminated  you tell the heap  you dream of the…