A mostrar mensagens de Abril, 2012


you brainless idiot, you said. you can't cross the street without falling in love. rightly so. but now it's like this:

a gorgeous-looking widow next in line in her early 40s gave me her discount coupons at the supermarket today. true, I could not help but size her up (but I do not pride myself of it): short and sexily plump, stylishly-trimmed black hair, off-beat black gipsy clothes, a sort of deeply sad serious well-to-do NY-type left-wing latina intellectual. breath-takingly sexy. then, bursting through our common gloom, she offered me the cutest of smiles and 18 euros' worth of coupons. off-beat widower, meet off-beat widow. but why on earth do I think I have to fill the giant hole that you left? I don't. it's part of me now. I returned as dark a smile as I could muster, and never looked back.

wrong key.


the sun breaks through the gloom
and I recall being awoken rudely
by björk singing 'all is full of love' -
how much ecstasy must it take to be that silly?

I hope the sky will clamp shut soon again
and wipe that idiotic bliss from my face

any key, as long it's minor


you called your cat oliver twist,
and he’s an orphan all over again –
like me, he only loved you
and loves no one now.

so everything’s changed, just

is as it was before
hasn’t changed

not too bad for a start.
press any key

revolution day

the cinemas are packed
screaming kids
yelling parents
popcorn revolves

I pretend all is well
no carnations required
for this renewal,
a mildly pleasing
fuck-you-all feeling

I managed today
without you:
a way up through
the lemontree leaves
and into the rain

not bad for a beginning


I can't live without you, and now you'll have to live without me.
your words to me a few days before you died alone at midnight.

I don’t know what music I like now, what books,
what movies, what people, what weather
I don’t even know what to wear now

it seems we defined each other,
and your death has

without you, I'm becoming a ghost

so how does it feel to be on your own?

my essence
has been distilled now:
all I feel is her.
just that she is no more.

I know it’s profoundly wrong,
but my soul has set
its own course
into the heart of the sun.

words alone
won't change this any longer.

so in the end,
one is nothing now,
and the others
have been crushed
in their own ways.

at the end of the spiral
there's nothing.

words alone

same dark place, different dark corner

I read what you say,
and am stunned at the sad irony.

but despite all our pain,
we won't do anymore -

time for me to move on
and live alone in the open

resolution (the new action hero)

your grave is complete now. our grave. for I will join you there. sooner rather than later, I expect. people say one day I will feel hopeful again. not that I discredit them, but what point is there in hope? hope that something glorious will happen again, they say. Well, hope my arse, I’ve had all the glory I wanted. ever needed. so I’ll focus now on becoming a thoroughly grumpy, intolerant old man. sarcasm rather than irony. I’ll tend to the garden that you created, cantankerously making it mine. I used to be blindly trustful – no more of that nonsense. I’ll become

the guard

lucky guy

last night,
we danced
and I would not let you

   I've been in love
   six times in my life.

   I have loved
   only once,
   and that took me 23 years to learn.

   in all likeliness
   I shan't love again,
   for there won't be time now
   to absorb anyone else's sum.

   I am lucky
   to have loved

we danced

today's weather: heavenless

I could. I can now.
anything I want.

but all is
culinary.musical.literary.amorous limbo

only the words
on which I thrive.

I mustn't move.

amidst the oceanwide void
that I must populate now



food & wine & sun-drunk laughter
the fourteen of us,
tightly knit,
amidst the myriad of flowers
you planted.

in heaven with you.

relearning how to sleep alone

sanity check:
everything's still as in
my nightcap photo album
except that all has lost its value.
lights off. dull pain.

vivid dream
something terrible is going to happen.
awake: it's happened already.

vivid dream
you are calling me,
submerge me in your living fragrance.

awake: the bed is cold and empty.
I hold your pillow.

vivid dream
you cut the straps that held a piano,
I visit the hospital all over again.
awake: dr faustus (p. 55) & st. augustine (untouched)
on your bedside table.
glad the cats are with me.

vivid dream
awake: half my pillow is wet.
sweat. tears.

awake: sanity check.
kitchen. garden. coffee. cigarette.


back in black

out of the black and into the blue

first day no black
in seven weeks

I feel profoundly wrong.


if I get it right,
I got it wrong.

blind me.
can I see you?

[black stitched on white:
door closed.]

it's looking like a beautiful day

only ten weeks ago,
you were driving our car,
cosy in your rocket.

your sunlit profile
to my left
smiled and we sang the words
of the last song
of our last hope.

now I am driving
upside down
and you're not here to
hold me
as I hit the world
full on.
with no brakes.
off course.

I'm grateful for the
driving instructor
to my right
even though he's even
more melancholy than I

of course it would all be easier
if I believed in a soul.
of course.