Voices in boxes. Sentence is a box. Lift the lid. Lift the lid and read. Letters jumbled within, words Hurled in, peering at you From the dark within. Jumping In your face. You read. Tiny needles, prickling; Icy crystals, like volley. Sentence is a box. Letters in layers. Words Collected. Lift the lid And read. Caressing, Soft summer rain words Unfolding in your mind. Eye excavations. Sentence is a box. I gave it to you. published on https://www.facebook.com/groups/schattenwerft/

Later. Aftermath. Sometimes It seems You’d rather have me Small, so little one, so Tiny-me, cage-sized, Box-sized. To be Put away on a shelf. Out of the way, Far away. Then tiny-me sits, Wings tight, In the back-corner, Silently twittering To itself, only, Silently to itself. And tall me hovering outside Afar in awe drifts Far away. honorary mention Daniil Pashkoff Prize 2022

enantionmeric response you’ve got to forgive me ∙ me so old now ∙ and no idea still ∙ you know ∙ so old ∙ and not knowing anything ∙ of life really ∙ studying all my life ∙ still knowing not ∙ a single thing ∙ that comes from living ∙ behind the mirror ∙ all the time ∙ behind ∙ or maybe ∙ was it in front ∙ of the mirror is the same ∙ as stretched-out ∙ in the plane of glossed glass ∙ when i look in the mirror i ∙ see no-one but ∙ myself ∙ you see no-one ∙ so what ∙ shall i ever know ∙ when what i see is ∙ nothing behind ∙ nothing through ∙ nothing in front ∙ self flattened ∙ to oblivion ∙ to memory ∙ in a plain pane ∙ glossed with yesterdays ∙ and that’s how ∙ i know nothing ∙ that’s why ∙ that’s how ∙ you know ∙ forgive me published in SAND 25, 2023

Roaming. no -one needs us to tell us where we should stay stay a-drift on the wings of a hummingbird hawk -moth humming audibly and hovering in midair no place in mid air to stay where we should trust come or go on our own wings only hovering and humming good omen they said even in the rain even in the rain flight over waste or bounty settled unsettled by visual discrimination reached unreached by convergent evolution the endless ending the flight endless always floating floating flying away no -one needs us and we are peregrine . published in yellow arrow journal VII, 02/2022

Art cares artist book by the Norwegian artist Liv Fjellsol of 2020 combines texts by 21 international authors with different back-grounds and professions with Fjellsol‘s artwork.

poetry videos on youtube: please note that you will be watching the videos on the youtube website which is under this platform‘s data protection regulation

Voices in boxes. Sentence is a box. Lift the lid. Lift the lid and read. Letters jumbled within, words Hurled in, peering at you From the dark within. Jumping In your face. You read. Tiny needles, prickling; Icy crystals, like volley. Sentence is a box. Letters in layers. Words Collected. Lift the lid And read. Caressing, Soft summer rain words Unfolding in your mind. Eye excavations. Sentence is a box. I gave it to you. published on https://www.facebook.com/groups/schattenwerft/

Art cares artist book by the Norwegian artist Liv Fjellsol of 2020 combines texts by 21 international authors with different back-grounds and professions with Fjellsol‘s artwork.

Song. About love. Talking ’bout, Talking ’bout love, dear, Talking. Have you seen it? Yesterday. Have you Seen it coming Round the corner? Yesterday, now, wasn’t it? Yesterday. Or maybe The day before. Maybe tomorrow. Yesterday, maybe, You saw it. So tell me. Tell me ‘bout love, dear, Coming round a corner. Coming. Coming, Going. published in Archive of love, Ariel Art Vol. 5 (2021)

Later. Aftermath. Sometimes It seems You’d rather have me Small, so little one, so Tiny-me, cage-sized, Box-sized. To be Put away on a shelf. Out of the way, Far away. Then tiny-me sits, Wings tight, In the back-corner, Silently twittering To itself, only, Silently to itself. And tall me hovering outside Afar in awe drifts Far away. honorary mention Daniil Pashkoff Prize 2022

enantionmeric response you’ve got to forgive me ∙ me so old now ∙ and no idea still ∙ you know ∙ so old ∙ and not knowing anything ∙ of life really ∙ studying all my life ∙ still knowing not ∙ a single thing ∙ that comes from living ∙ behind the mirror ∙ all the time ∙ behind ∙ or maybe ∙ was it in front ∙ of the mirror is the same ∙ as stretched-out ∙ in the plane of glossed glass ∙ when i look in the mirror i ∙ see no-one but ∙ myself ∙ you see no-one ∙ so what ∙ shall i ever know ∙ when what i see is ∙ nothing behind ∙ nothing through ∙ nothing in front ∙ self flattened ∙ to oblivion ∙ to memory ∙ in a plain pane ∙ glossed with yesterdays ∙ and that’s how ∙ i know nothing ∙ that’s why ∙ that’s how ∙ you know ∙ forgive me published in SAND 25, 2023

Roaming. no -one needs us to tell us where we should stay stay a-drift on the wings of a hummingbird hawk -moth humming audibly and hovering in midair no place in mid air to stay where we should trust come or go on our own wings only hovering and humming good omen they said even in the rain even in the rain flight over waste or bounty settled unsettled by visual discrimination reached unreached by convergent evolution the endless ending the flight endless always floating floating flying away no -one needs us and we are peregrine . published in yellow arrow journal VII, 02/2022

poetry videos on youtube: please note that you will be watching the videos on the youtube website which is under this platform‘s data protection regulation