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Touched by Night


(memento tangere, for Ulla) 


your touching me

no matter how lightly

makes all the night-

mares gallop back

to where they came from


remembering your touch,

no matter how sleepily

lets strong white mus-

tangs drag my self

through the dead of night.



 

 

 

 





 

Ships and Trains and Thoughts




Everything looks so deserted

in that big bathroom we´ve got;

guess you took a shower there this morning

but I decide I´d rather not.



I´m too tired from the journey

though a girl sent me a song;

did you enjoy the company of strangers

or am I, as you say, as usually wrong.



Do we always miss each other

like two trains just rushing by,

two ships seen from a far distance

where the water meets the sky.



Letters and bills upon our table

which you´ve piled up there for me;

I add books to them I´ve brought you

but I forgot the perfume while at sea.



You´ve left for readings on Australia

which equals happiness for you,

said we made up for good over there -


how I wish that it were true.



Will we always miss each other

like two trains just rushing by,

two ships seen from a far distance

where the water meets the sky.





Through the Night, Singing






we touch again


now shyly but deliberately


like two divorced


and newly married


partners, unwrapping


their wedding china


in quiet disbelief




if I can get you


if you can get me


through the night


everything will turn out right




we touch again


in the depth of night


like two children


unable to light


a new candle,


yet remembering


a couple of songs


they´ve learnt together.




if you can see me

if I can see you

through the night

everything will be all right.








----------------------------------------------------

The Creaking Door







My love for you´s

an old creaking door.

Sometimes it´s a blow in the face -

unexpected, vigorous -

to open up my eyes again.

Sometimes it´s an open invitation

to a surreal world

of rotten dreams

and mildewed expectations.

Sometimes, yes sometimes

it´s a breeze

once fresh, always gentle

on my face and

in the marrow

of my soul.