Medicine has an anesthetic relationship with pain – it wants to rid the patient of it. Poetry’s relationship is aesthetic – it wants pain to speak.
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The sea The sea as a seascape In a frame over the dining table The sea a forever moving element Scary to seamen When they face a storm The sea as holiday background Refreshing water on a tanned skin Burnt by the sun The sea an omnipresent blue Continuation of the sky above
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Goodbye. Das große Fressen ist vorbei. Die Zunge ist gelockert. Der Wein schiebt das Karussell an, der Wein hält und schiebt und hält und schiebt und hält um schließlich anzuschieben das Karussell an. Unter der Zunge taut und friert und taut und friert um schließlich ganz Rutschbahn zu sein, ein Blitzeis nach dem Fressen. Da
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If taken together and interpreted a certain way, these poems may paint the picture of an individual who is discovering that depending on external validation is a dead-end; the small moments and aspects of ourselves we learn to treasure are what matters.
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