Nie Mehr

Es war Nekotag,
Wann die Kinder tanzte
Und Sie glaubte,
Dass Sie machtet
Eine Katze miauen für ihn.

Aber nicht so viel Menschen
Hatte ein Verstehen,
Wann Sie lachte
Und Sie wusste
Dass für alle die Leute:

Nie mehr kann man verstehen,
Dass für alle die Kiwikunst,
Es gibt immer Schwierigkeiten
Wann Sie über Wissenschaft sprechen.


Wovon dies: hier.

While Mother was Away

Asleep in a cupboard
The boy clutched the front of his shirt in pain.
Trying his hardest to dream
He held on tight to the buttons that remained.
In his dreams
If he could have dreamed about anything
He would have dreamed
About screaming out-loud towards infinity.

Outside the cupboard
Another boy waited for him to finish dreaming.
He wanted an answer
About whether if what happened earlier had any meaning.
It had been an accident
Even if they had all meant for it to happen.
Now he would like to have dreamed
About screaming out-loud towards penitence.

On the other side of the room
A small girl stood and watched these things.
She wore blue dresses
And on one hand always wore two rings.
It would have been an accident
If they had not said that they were going to do it.
But now in her hands
She held onto and cried for a dying red-tailed lark.

I can't vacuum...the light's not on

I had the Epic poem of the century today

was amazing
the problem…

I didn't have pen and paper

nothing exploded
so
It's gone

Cisterns That Can Hold No Water

He looked out the window
And saw steam rising from the nuclear power plant.
He had tried so many times to make it make sense,
To find a path towards the extra measure,
The extra molecule of life and love.
But it wasn't so simple as that time next to the willow trees
Where he lost his life's love and returned
A less hopeful man, but still curious.
So as the steam rose into the air from the tall chimneys,
To where it would return eventually,
He considered his lesser tries.
The time he met the Lorax and his trees,
With the lesson to be learned and the price to be paid.
The time he sat in a lecture hall and listened
As a secular man told him that he was right.
The time he sat in a gymnasium and was cut to the heart
As a religious man told him that he was wrong.
And the time above all when his mother had passed away,
Before he made it to the hospital from the airport.
And he tried to imagine
What all of these times had in common.
Setting down his glass of grape juice
He put his hand on the window to feel the cool,
To imagine what real faith felt like,
Before pain hardened the world to times like these.
He tried to imagine a beautiful flower meadow
With a poetry house in the center,
The center of which had a clear column of light shining daily.
He imagined a place where love wasn't an abstract idea,
Because poetry never worked out his personal catharsis,
Nor had much to say about this particular moment.
Not really.
He picked up his glass of grape juice and took a sip,
Tasting the bitter sweetness,
Thinking about how a thousand saints had died for times like these.
And looking out the window
He saw steam rising from the nuclear power plant.

Tired of Eating Fish

I don't want to live there
In the deep forest town
In the dark jungle that hides me
Where the dire woods leave me.

But instead I'd rather live here
In a meadow
With a tree and a flower
And a kingdom full of priests
And a whole love of bright sun
Luminescence to drown out the sound
Of thousands of humming birds.

And I think I'd like to have a city
Named after my favorite food
With a capital building so clear
That I can see what everyone is
Thinking and knowing and wishing to have.

And I think it would snow in the winter
And be sunny in the summer
Where the fall and the spring
Collide into a shiny tangle
That assumes we know too much
When we haven't know enough
But still want to know more
Even though we never can.

That's where I want to live
With anything I can call my own.

It's Over, Fair Sleeper

They fall down from the treetops
And catch all the little ones in their teeth.
They jump from branch to limb
And gnash and claw to the earth.
They grab you from the side
And tear until you can't feel a thing.
They take what you give
But what you lend isn't enough.

I swear I saw them walking around the park
Last Thursday afternoon,
Right before the moonflowers bloomed
And the wedding party walked through.
Didn't you see them too?
I swear I saw them running down the street
With their claws bared,
Not that anyone was scared
When they took the children and the elderly—
Did they take them too tenderly?

You know I'm not crazy.
You know I'm not the only one they keep up at night.
You know.
You know.
You know you're not telling me.

Twenty Minutes

It was starting to get dark as I sat in the corner of the walled, stone-paved courtyard. I looked at the big digital clock posted by the large exit gate. Twenty minutes to midnight. If ever there was a time, now was the time to make a run for it. A few other people wandered around the courtyard, but no one seemed particularly interested in any immediate action or conversation. Now was the time to leave. Only twenty minutes to midnight.

I stood up slowly, so as not to wake the sleepy polar bear resting near the gate. I announced, as if to encourage myself, but perhaps said it too loudly, "I'm going to leave now." A couple people turned their heads, saying nothing, and the polar bear opened its eyes and let out a brief growl. I changed my mind. I would follow the rules instead.

I walked over to the clerk by the north wall and picked up the proper forms. I scribbled down the answers on my application and approached the polar bear. It looked at me with disinterest as I placed the application on the ground.

I'm not entirely sure what happened next, but I think I saw the polar bear smirk as there was a bright flash of light, after which I looked and saw my application was gone. Blamed kiwi lux. The polar bear got up then and began to prowl in front of the gate. Taking a few steps back, I looked up at the clock. Still fifteen minutes to midnight. There had to be a means of escape. Next time, I told myself, I would study law and find a loophole in the rules.

I wandered about for a few minutes, staring at the grimy walls in thought, now and then. I considered conferring with some of the others in the courtyard, discuss a possible plan with them, but they didn't appear to be particularly helpful in this case. One guy even fell into a pit that opened underneath his feet. The fall and crunch at the end were fairly mild, so I assumed he would appear from the hole again, but I didn't see him again before midnight.

The polar bear made a sound and I looked up at the clock. Only seven minutes to midnight. Suddenly panicked and griping to myself about lost time, I again approached the polar bear, but this time with more boldness. It just stood there, blocking the way. I considered making a rude dash for the exit, but a sudden feeling of politeness filled my soul instead.

I tried reason. "Look, polar bear, we all know it's getting late, and it would be nice if I could leave now." I tried this and a few other tactics, but nothing worked and—I swear it was true this time!—the polar bear grinned at me and turned its head towards the clock. Fifteen minutes had now passed me by since my initial attempt to depart from the courtyard.

So it was then, with five minutes to spare, that I embraced the polar bear's game. I had to ask myself, how much do I really want to leave? Wouldn't it be even better to stay here all night and play games with my fiercest competitor? Yes, I thought, that would be very nice—to laugh and speak joyfully as the polar bear slowly nods off to sleep…. However, there was no time for that now, though a game was still in order. A longer stay the polar bear would get out of me. But a full twenty minutes? Never.

As a crowd began to form, I knew my only comical choice was to revert to Shakespeare. With feigned sadness and displeasure, I made a show and played Horatio. Or was it Hamlet? Oh, who can tell now? It's of no matter now, because the crowd was pleased and the polar bear played along.

Smile on my face, I looked at the clock—one minute to spare, and the polar bear no longer so forcefully guarding the gate. But even as I looked at the digital display, I saw the numbers shift and I knew that midnight was upon us. I had failed. A moment later the polar bear noticed the time and began to celebrate. And I swear this is true, it began to dance around the courtyard. I watched for a few moments, somehow defeated and yet glad, but then I noticed that the gate stood open, and with a quick movement I would be free to leave. I began to walk towards the exit, but the polar bear lunged and landed in front of me.

Feeling that obedience only created by fear, I fell to the ground and awaited my terrible fate. But when I gained enough courage and opened my eyes, I saw the polar bear backing away. And I don't know if it was by magic—it could just as easily have been science, or even religion—but a copy of my application, completed and officially stamped, rested on the ground in front of me. I stood up and grabbed the document, lifting it up over my head. At last, it had come to pass. The polar bear looked just a little bit sad and the crowd looked confused, but now was my time to celebrate.

As I walked through the gate, I couldn't help but think of the polar bear and the coinciding failure and victory I had obtained. But I set my eyes ahead and looked beyond the gate. It was dark outside of the courtyard, now after midnight, and the sky was cloudy so I walked home slowly.

I made it home in due time, lay down in my bed, and reflected on the night's events, plotting how I might retell this tale. I couldn't help but miss the fun, and it came to me then—I wasn't dreaming.

She has come and She has gone

Winter is the only time
That winter will ever make sense.
The rest of the time
The weather just isn't cold enough.

In summer when it rains,
The fruit trees soak up the water and flourish.
The produce grows bright and strong,
Reflecting back to us the energy of the sun.

Spring is always supposed to be happy,
When bears come out of hibernation.
But sometimes enjoyment is forgotten
When happiness requires all of our attention.

So it is in fall then,
When winter is truly appreciated.
Boring sites of beautiful colors
Tell us at last that the wait is now over.


Because: this.