Tagged soil


08.08.13 1.00pm dear anna. lately i have had nightmares. wake shivering — can i come see you? when will you have time. how are you? i miss – you – nothing — no writing — words disappeared inside — circulate in the body — like breathing: breath in a n n a breath out d e a r breath in a n n a breath out d e a r 09.08.13 6.00am nightmare — twin girls — one fell into the sea and were lost — unable to make it home — she forgot who she was and became homeless…


–eller hvis jeg siger: danmark er vold. mod landskab og vildheddet er drab af grise og andet godtfolkdjævleuddrivelse til kollektivt vanvidmin søstermin søster jeg ser dig


sisters oh planti have come to pray to youto take you with me and bring you homehere i bow infant heart in front of yougive me your blessinglittle sister, little sisterancient heartscome, come with me take us homefill us up


hvis du er syg, skal du være sammen med dyr. hvis der ikke er nogle (levende) dyr at være sammen med, kan du prøve at spise nogle døde. hvis du ikke har det bedre, næste dag, kan du tale højt. de vil høre dig –du kan starte med:


bison came to me, presenting itselfas an offer. i ate/consumed/swallowed bisonto renew/concurre/savior myselfand thereby i became bison,who sacrificed itself —the cliff swallows will be back soon,i love my city in their presence the danish national tree is commonbeech (fagus sylvatica)the anemones (anemone virginiana)have to time their floweringbefore leave-coversoak up the spring sunlight —up here we all get through the winter-darkby our bodies recalling spring;the vow of long summer days(17 h & 30 min. in mid june)this collected white blanketof each delicately individualanemone, beneath the hundred years giants exemplifyingthe order of beauty and timeas singles becomingentities in perfection anemones allows me…


beads   in the morning small feather or shell shows herself with her creamy alluvian fan of whipped white, the round shape presents a reference point on your mental horizon: no sunlight in the days here pale hours throughout winter inside her form is spring-embryo gently pulling at your heart: repeat, repeat repeat


beads   said, yes i’d love to come back though working now.  have to obey; the hours, the days —like beads, weighing against each other  mirroring repetition, unable to know what is real and what is repeated  yes, i’d love to come back; what is now and what has past said, what is lost  stay lost the pain so abandoned; one can hardly recall or mirror the cause i’d love to come back —i’d love