Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Noah's 126th egg / Noahs 126nde æg

if we're not

                       in a half-dream my 4 year old granddaughter
                       throws eyeballs the size of watermelons at me.
                       I can see in her face that she's as surprised as
                       I am. They were soft balls when she threw them
                       but they changed in mid air. We agree that I
                       should change dream-track. This one isn't funny.
                       She says she'll step into one of her mother's dreams.
                       Sounds good, I say. See you.

nature

                       then I'm awoken by a stonemason fitting cobblestones
                       into one another. The sound of metal hammering
                       against stone silences even the eager blackbird in the
                       solitary tree by the church.
                       I don't know what kind of tree it is.

what
r
we

                      summer cold
                      for a while the world
                      is made of Kleenex







hvis vi ikke

                     i en halvdrøm kaster mit 4-årige barnebarn
                     øjenæbler på størrelse med vandmeloner
                     efter mig. Jeg kan se på hendes ansigtsudtryk,
                     at hun er lige så overrasket, som jeg er. De
                     var bløde bolde, da hun kastede dem, men
                     de forandrede sig undervejs. Vi bliver enige om,
                     at jeg skal skifte drømmespor. Det her er ikke
                     morsomt. Hun siger, at hun vil gå ind i én af sin
                     mors drømme.
                     Det lyder som en god ide, siger jeg. Vi ses.

er natur

                     derefter bliver jeg vækket af en stenhugger, der
                     tilpasser brosten. Lyden af metal, der hamrer mod
                     sten, får selv den ihærdige solsort i det enlige træ
                     ved kirken til at tie stille.
                     Jeg aner ikke, hvilken slags træ det er.

hvad
r
vi

                     sommerforkølelse
                     for en tid er verden
                     lavet af Kleenex

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