Thursday, 31 December 2020

43-20

- and then he went all swallow on me!


the ink-nurses

                         you tread

                         the grass


open

the gate
of fog

                        your angel waters


and return
to the needle-lake

                        with his tears


at the end of one year there’s another



.



- og så blev han helt som svaler overfor mig


blæksygeplejerskene


                          og du betræder
                         græsset


åbner
tåge
lågen


                         din engel vander


og vender tilbage
til nålesøen

                         med sine tårer


for enden af et år er der et andet

Thursday, 10 December 2020

42-20

in this solitude less of me more of you


swatting it


                          barely light enough


again and again


                          to shape


this pesky
I-fly


                          an apple


and sometimes you’re easier to see with eyes closed



*



i denne alenehed mindre af mig mere af dig


klasker den


                             knap lys nok


igen og igen


                              til at forme


denne irriterende
jeg-flue


                               et æble


og nogle gange er det lettere at se dig med lukkede øjne

Thursday, 3 December 2020

41-20

you walk on a bridge held up by song

in this

meantime

                          blowing your dust

you have

to repeat

                          into a flame

the unrepeatable

                          is what

                          it comes
                         
down to

taking the wind further into the dusk





.


en bro holdt oppe af sang

i denne

mellemtid

                         at blæse dit støv

må du

gentage

                         ind i flamme

det ugentagelige


                         det er det

                         det handler om

bringer du vinden længere ind i tusmørket

Wednesday, 2 December 2020

40-20

it’s December and the cup is half full of shadow


yearly
a birth


                        wordless


like a rose


                        I ask


tilts the axis
of the Earth


                        for everything


before Winter Solstice it will probably flow over



.



det er december og koppen er halvt fuld af skygge


hvert år
vil en fødsel


                       ordløs


some en rose


                       beder jeg


tippe Jordens
akse


                       om alting


før Vintersolhverv vil den nok flyde over