Early summer morning,
Young sunrise above the sea.
Where his shadow falls
Over the grass I plant my life
Like a cluster of moss
Afloat on wind-stirred sea,
Flushing without roots,
Weirdly softening when the edges
Of his silhouette leans against
My empty handed longing.
Like the sea:
A distant cry
Deep in my land-bound heart.
Like the wind:
through sea grass
Swaying in the blue fog
Of years gone by.
through frail memories:
A spring twig in the hands
of a wood cutter
Or a white stream of aurora
In the currents of the Milky Way.
You were left naked among stars,
Thorns of light like hoarfrost
Piercing the blue foliage of sea,
Making the sun bleed out
In the silence of farewelling screams.
In all this, the madness of the heart,
You were the beached ice berg
Shining green with coral rivers
You made me the iconographer
Of your dreams
Tagging my hallways with your
You pooled my shallow waters,
Mapping scavenger hunts
To trick me into looking for you,
Only to leave me
Capsized in the black tar
Of your expectations.
A sultry hum from a mountain sea,
A bleached sun rocking in shore-bound currents.
On the marshy bank a black swan is looking,
Meditatively, at its own shivering reflection,
Ashen wings burning golden in the sea
Like a fallen angel encountering its honesty.
The evenings are soft in June.
Blue and pink mist rippling through
Sleepless lilac-scented nights.
The silvery shadows of seabirds
Gliding over a quiet carpet of sea.
Contours are blurred, but never dissolved.
Even at midnight you can hear
the eerie cry of terns hunting low in the sky.
Dreams can be waved freely from
Sail-less ship masts on evenings like this,
Even if you find yourself in the middle
Of a port-less sea.