Life's journeys: Language, culture, communication

Tag: Gedicht

  • On the outside, looking in

    This, this, I tell myself, this see-through envelope of blueness that contains us, this fluid in which we move, this shallow film of sunlight collecting into magnanimous pools, rippling, cascading, eroding, building its deep dark wells of forgetfulness, turning our chunky limbs of flesh into ethereal shadows that precede us slanting, hovering, levitating, always one…

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  • Sleepwalkers

    The street awash with children leaving school. The bus stop one big isle of kids. An overspill of youth. Huddled. Immobile. Captivated. Captive. Each child, oblivious to child, stares down into a phone like it’s a well of meaning. A girl ponders over the best emoji. Her finger hovers, undecided. Tap. The street awash with…

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  • Thinking in haikus (3)

    The austere sun gaping its hungry mouth: unfrozen streets, hushed voices. Thin gauze of floodlight, birds in wedding fever, boughs rotating lifeward. Young insects dashing, daring, thin cellular membrane of hope pulsates.

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  • Thinking in haikus (2)

    Under the blinding sun I dream of quiet crisp- ness, Japanese pines. A forest muted by snow. Shy deer and ripe cones. The vastness singing.

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  • Thinking in haikus

    Night winds and night unwinding. Shivers through lowered blinds. I startle, stir. The sleepless moon, perched on a windowsill, ogles my slumber. Leering.

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  • The breeze on a deserted seafront promenade

    The sea, its expanses, the sea and its shores. The sea softly hissing amid sails, amid boats. Endless blue horizon: you can swim to the sky where, among constellations, the eternal is nigh. The sea softly singing with the music of spheres; the sea with its swinging while we sink, while we die. The sea…

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  • My daughter wants flip-flops

    Such is the patriarchy. Had God been Goddess for sure there’d have been a ‘Fiat calceamenta!’ in there somewhere, right after ‘Let there be light.’ Somewhere in-between crocodiles & farm animals and lone Adam begging for more cuddle time. ‘Let there be purses and handbags,’ but, above all, ‘let there be shoes,’ in all colors…

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  • Tomorrow the river will swell

    The storm crawled in from the southwest as it always does, lighting up the sky with silent fireworks after sundown. The earth below hot, hot and dark like a feverish womb. The rain came slowly. It seemed far away. It seemed almost spent by the time it reached us. We sit side by side on…

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  • Is there still…?

    Is there still…? Is there still time? Is there still time to be human? Everywhere, every-fucking-where this storm of separation, this vertigo, this howling and this yelping, this moaning, this plea to end the pain, this trumpet of the angel of death, of the angel of bleakness, this abandon to isolation, this anguish, this torment!…

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  • Schiffbruch

    Wie Teelichter auf einem Fluss der Vergessenheit entfernen sich die Wörter sanft schaukelnd. Langsam aber sicher entgleiten sie uns; unmöglich das Verweilen. Im Streit der Gewässer eilen sie flussabwärts, sie geraten ins Schwanken, manchmal erlischt das Licht, es riecht nach flüssigem Wachs, wenn sie umfallen besiegeln sie ihr Schicksal, stummer Rauch steigt auf und sie…

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