2018-22

this

mortal

coil

                 in

                 the

                 amygdala

does

it

pass

                 a

                little

                workshop

an

ice

cream

shop?

               restoring

               oak

               trees

.

denne

dødelige

spiral

               i

              amygdala

går

den

forbi

              et

             lille

             værksted

en

isbod?

              der

              restaurerer

              egetræer

2018-21

imagining

a 4 meters long

stingray

                          the same

                          from all sides

in

my 4 x 4 meters

living room

                           the eye

I get a measure

of my heat

delirium

                           in the thimble

.

forestiller mig

en 4 meter lang

pigrokke

                           det samme

                           fra alle sider

i min

4 x 4 meter

stue

                            øjet

og får et mål

for mit

hededelirium

                            i fingerbøllet

2018-20

through the hole

in my hair

                           “Ye shall feed

                             on the sweat

a paper ladder

                             from their brows

                             keeping them awake

                             at night”

for homeless

flames

                             said the fly god

.

gennem hullet

i mit hår

                           “I skal æde

                             af sveden

en papirstige

                            af deres pander

                            og holde dem vågne

                            om natten”

til hjemløse

flammer

                             sagde flueguden

2018-19

reawakening

                        perhaps

                        or perhapsn’t

the sound

of rain

                        finger kissing

to fit inside

Corelli’s sonatas

                        her marble

                        portrait

(Arcangelo Corelli wrote his ”Sonate da Chiesa” for,

and while employed by, the Swedish Queen Kristina)

.

genopvækker

                         måske

                         og måsk’ikk’

lyden

af regn

                         fingerkysse

til at passe ind

i Corellis sonater

                         hendes

                         marmorportræt

(Arcangelo Corelli skrev sine ”Sonate da Chiesa” til,

og mens han var ansat hos, den svenske Dronning Kristina)

2018-18

as I said: most quests for eternal life end with death

not

                      only

                      by stretching

and not

not

                      the romantic

                      illusion

going

any

no

where

                      does a magpie

to escape

the heat

                     ʽsing’

.

som jeg sagde: de fleste forsøg på at finde det evige liv ender med døden

ikke

                     kun ved

                     at strække

og ikke

ikke

                    den romantiske

                    illusion

på vej til

alle

ingen

steder

                     ʽsynger’

i flugt fra

varmen

                     en skade

2018-17

the lake is a pen

                           precalling

for poems

about longing

                          my future

                          imaginary

                          dog

you’re written

for as long

                          and why

                          I made him

                          from twigs

a feather

hovers

                         and string

above

your

blindness

                        I will choose

                                 a a bird of dusk

                        instead

.

søen er en pen

                         forudhusker

til digte

om længsel

                        min fremtidige

                       fantasihund

du skrives

så længe

                       og hvorfor

                       jeg lavede ham

                       af kviste

en fjer

svæver

                       og snor

over

din

blindhed

                      vil jeg vælge

                                en tusmørkefugl

                      i stedet

2018-16

planet days

gathered in urns

                            beech trees

                            are straws

to tear

our marrow

                            through which

                            words

from the sky

                            like ‘human’

                            and ‘nail’ fall

                            into the dusk

.

planetdage

samlet i urner

                             bøgetræer

                             er rør

for at rive

vor marv

                            gennem hvilke

                            ord

løs fra himlen

                           som ‘menneske’

                           og ‘søm’ falder

                           ind i tusmørket

2018-15

melting sky:

                    sometimes grief

                    is just that

the key to

the land

                    a toy bear

of missing

socks

                   full of gardens

.

smeltende himmel:

                              nogle gange

                              er sorg bare dét

nøglen til

de forsvundne

                              en bamse

sokkers

land

                              fuld af haver