Johannes Bjerg
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Gondolsov sødt
verden en tør raslen af vinger mod mine øjnes vinduer de søer jeg ikke kunne svømme i men hvori solen og stjernerne kastede dele af dem selv for at blinde mig i denne hal som natten er spiller et orgel kun de dybe toner det er nattens grundlæggende væv der omringer, nej, belejrer lotussen i knop i søhestens dam 'hold dit sind i helvede og frygt ikke' sagde han mens han stirrede på sin frelser gennem dæmonerne der fyldte hans celle med en brøkdel af hans tro kunne jeg komme ud af sengen og op i gondolen der sejler ned ad tårekanalen under Sukkenes (mine) Bro i et hjørne spiller en edderkop på mandolin en prisen af Guds helgener på en meget italiensk måde alt er godt |
Gondolasleep well
world a dry rustling of wings against the windows of my eyes those lakes I couldn't swim in but wherein the sun and the stars threw bits of themselves to blind me in this hall the night is there's an organ playing the deep notes only it's the basic web of darkness surrounding, nay, besieges the budding lotus in the seahorse's pond 'keep your mind in hell and fear not' he said staring at his saviour through the demons filling his cell with a fraction of his faith I could get out of bed and into the gondola going down the lachrymal canal under the Bridge of (my) Sighs in a corner of my room a spider plays his mandolin in praise of tiny flies and God's saints in a very Italian way all is good |
edderkoppernormalt fjerner jeg edderkopper
i min lejlighed men den dér i hjørnet over lampen der vender opad la'r jeg være den spiser de små insekter der kommer indenfor på varme somre som denne her det funker lad os danse siger jeg til neuronerne og de tager imod invitationen og vi danser en pogo hen over gulvet hvor der nu er plads mellem malerier i forskellig grader af ufærdighed og bliver svedige altså jeg gør jeg er ikke sikker på at neuroner har den egenskab men de kan holde rede på et vagt (sådan foretrækker jeg det) verdensbillede og oplagre data meget bedre end noget andet og pogo'en kræver ikke særlige evner udover at kunne bevæge arme og ben enten fjerner jeg dem med støvsugeren edderkopperne eller bruger en insektgift med blomsterduft og bruger så støvsugeren når de er døde det er praktiskt hjerteløst men praktisk i de situationer frygter jeg de mere rigide fortolkninger af karma |
Spidersusually I get rid of spiders
in my flat but that one in the corner above the lamp pointing upwards I let be it eats those tiny insects that come inside on warm summers like this one that'll do let's dance I say to the neurons and they accept the invitation we do a pogo across the floor littered with painting in various degrees of un-finishment and get sweaty well I do I'm not sure neurons have that ability but they can keep track of a vague (I prefer it that way) map of the world and store data much better than anything and the pogo demands no special ability other than to be able to move arms and legs either I hoover them up/in the spiders or use an insecticide with floral scent and hoover them up when they're dead it's practical heartless but practical in those situations I fear the stricter interpretations of karma |
Night Train
from nothing a couple of shakes [seeing god on the train] […] the on/off existence of villages. flash. can I where your dog / a face lit by a phone [hush] your scent. a lonely-chair. the absence of sky at night |talk don't talk remind me don't remind me. hold | fructose. a flock of dolphins at the all night gas station. rain pass don't pass me by. this tree has leaves in summer [slept too long the day is broken] up my nostrils almond oil and your juices add me to the list of emigrants | your piece of the ground 25 dog-ends a crushed snail | a fable about the young earth and a dream of innocence some Chinese or whatever has woven the fabric we sit on [press “stop” and mind your luggage] down pressed down. a note with “sor ..” just readable
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Kyrie Eleison
frantically
looking for a credible beginning I make educated guesses about my amphibian ancestors bigger than the hills the darkness rolling in just for a moment borrowing an angel's tears my second nature as moth Kyrie, Eleison ❧ leder hektisk efter en troværdig begyndelse mine kvalificerede gætterier om mine amfibiske forfædre større end bakkerne mørket der ruller ind blot for et øjeblik låner jeg en engels tårer min anden natur som møl Kyrie, Eleison Going Home
guess what album I listened to on my way home
magical mystery tour dad almost turn out a ghost driver night train fool on the hill fool in my head perfume clouds girls flying on e halfway to nowt a blue jay de-feathered frying meatballs mum sings a song her mother knew drunken teen he is me like I am him the walrus hello a boy leaves walking backwards taking me down strawberry hats of lead rain a penny for every lane I walk alone human zoo a rich man calls himself "Baby" knowing what I need and live pale penguin Three Haiku
culturally Christian and tired
by winter solstice our skulls sing kulturkristen og træt ved vintersolhverv synger vore kranier ❧ tumbling across several sore limbs a heavy Monday tumler hen over adskillige ømme lemmer en tung mandag ❧ so the heavens fall and I have my hands full himlen falder ned og jeg har hænderne fulde |
Slime Monday
a hatful
of head discussing the significance of skid-marks in a self-proclaimed prophet's underwear theorists reach a point where for a king to be a certain and named king who died in a joust for him to be that king which is supposed to be the one mentioned in a certain prophesy he must have been someone else if we don't take into account that just by putting this vision onto a page and publishing it thus making it spread to thousand of living vibrating minds in itself will influence the future in such a way that the king wasn't king or even a human being but an apple with two cores ... and angelless feathers I zap on to another programme where a man back in the 1970's win 64.000 kroner by answering a question about rare stamps I draw the card of the Fool slime Monday (not mentioned in the calendar) a lead snail sucks up the blue of the sky linoleum - a mixed sequence / linoleul - en blandet sekvens
endless
like a hospital corridor the road goes on ... I'm handed a prescription for a tolerable day is this it? waiting in a world of silent linoleum coming over the hills October's light eating wolves tablets the void between my cells hums ❧ endeløs som en hospitalskorridor denne landevej ... jeg får en recept på en tålelig dag et det dét? venten i en verden af stille linoleum over bakkerne kommer de oktobers lysædende ulve tabletter tomheden mellem mine celler brummer
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