WORKS
Category Archives: TRUTH
AS AXE BLOW
Here is a stone-hill filled with taken away stones.
There is a leaning larder collecting in what is already eaten.
(All still as ardent as a forgotten memory of a light burned out.)
The surpassed present time is without real answers
and sowing here without harvest in a curious connection
Viet knows what Honour causes, while here now life;
last and finally is mostly for ill hidden purposes grief
IN WITH THE UNREACHABLE TO GRAB!
TAKE THE FINAL STEP!
Be a solidity with the striking-weapon; Clarity and Right,
and fill up the patience, break here down suffering!
BE THE WORLD A WITHSTANDING DELIGHT!
NOW LIVE YOURSELF FULL!
It begins.
Enter to the present time with something monumental:
TRUTH.
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THE HILLSIDE SMITH SECRET
Sleeplessly resting in a fragile hint,
so alike a water circle offers shallowness;
sighted shortly and withheld; so moving
Tracing then the water in the forest-creek down to the river.
Waiting here. Observing with a careful watchfulness.
Counting everything musingly and cultivating my freedom.
Honour is never anything other than right; wise and truthful,
unthinkable to therein search after any hidden motives.
Sleeping safely next to the hillside smith at summer-dawn.
Relief comes when Life again will be enough.
Letting fastidious be me reasonable and healthy.
Opportunities, the now’s possibilities avoided me steadily
and persistently bitterness bites memories sown,
cock-sure and clearly; in benefit for worthlessness
But, I have a prevalent advantage in clearest excess;
I am foresighted on the Holy Path Home to Valhalla.
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THE UNTIMELY
Want to save this moment from escaping,
for it is irreplaceable ― irresistible ―
almost unsparingly fair ― undefiled
Calmed, by misplaced sun warmth
(the betraying), to take myself a freod filled moment
(Wholly and fully as a dumb animal who right away,
instantly forgets, when a little heat reaches to look in.)
Trees, continuing the raining, in a well-aimed loan
compounded with sighing, home to its certainty
Woods, slayed again on its leaves, on its flowers and straws,
molded to clouds and soils service in a secret
There was something well-known…
about all this helpless nuisance,
this here too barren established;
that Life become Death’s only joke
returning to soon be the lost
And while burdened steps cry away the dust of the road
the pouring rain fills an already overfilled water keg
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HANGED UPON WISHED FOR BRANCH
Heaving up the trashed and torn roots
right here next to the old gallows pole hill
Dig inside my soil.
Every glance is taken like a last solidified picture;
Released with the dew-drops in a morning haze.
Autumn’s shrouded leaves flicker.
(Daylight in its rising counts itself as old annual rings
finding me in the uncertain emptied; filled with real need.)
Time continues
To willful use for the eye
meets the entrance by the edge of the woods
where soaking wet leave mounds glimmer
from the same dawn to dawn enclosed
in the greyed trees, the bluish skies
watched and awaited; Time continues.
(Juniper bushes, which stood on the slopes
treads on the longed for forest grounds
up the duskily pine-needle filled paths.)
Feel the presence.
Harshly appears the cold ways
denying cloud covered days,
which felted all my time here.
The wind hisses bodefully.
(Out-witted as an autumn-adorned branch
taken down with the now icing night-wind.)
Hear me clearly; Time continues.
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WHERE STONE SHARDS STAND
Choice is stone on flowers
or flowers on stone
YOU THERE! Follow me here and step on meandering ant-tracks
continuing down through the meadowland; in just this spring
which now remade by the meltwater runs over into…
Summer, went past reflecting other little summer memories
up here on juniper tree hills and field islands; down by the creeks
we turn our embraces around full-grown wild strawberry ditches
The water-mirror slumbered stuck further down in the old hollow
with its pine-needles and dust swimming on after― So prettily teasing
We will see invisibly lifted stone shards there behind the glade
by saddened hardened in each corner ― Yet they’re playing
The views are here allowed to be us stretched far and wide,
reachable, for us hastily taken in right before…
Autumn, a scent around blot wood and mushrooms in damp moss
from a silent hiding-place where one single leaf has hanged itself on;
following true life-gladness in search after worth seeing; stainless.
It died down meanwhile the river silenced below the ridge
and beside me sat a frosted fog denseness in a smile;
in its cold and snowfilled winterarms winterfairest shine
We return home inside the soll!
We strike forward our years on mountains!
We break Earth’s veins!
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AFORE BEAUTY DIES
Where fallow stayed accessible for years
gleaming in its coldest nightstones; calling
inside the forests snow-covered darkness
as night grew all its frost ready; to cling
Watching the remains sunken down in blood.
(My intensive double eyes
telling about my earlier lives,
remember now my clearest traces.)
Following my longings impossible demands,
That,
which never at any time will caress;
cutting a heart that thought too hard; My grave.
And all my beauty is now dead, as yours,
which in all of you so wrench and aggrieve
Missing me. My longing is cured.
FINDING. AM. BRED.
I am the new essence matured.
Extinguishing all my wounds suffering,
and awake, afore beauty dies, once more.
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IN A TIMELESS
Wide awake.
Taking over dawning,
kicking around down in the sand ―
sighting a grey-barn stand among summers ruins
Stepping up to the ledge of a still asleep stone bridge
when a grey wagtail flee away with a quenched cry
almost unheard in our consent of silent wind-throws
(It hurts to be so greatly charged with suspicion.)
It cuts hard into my insight.
Sad to say, I am an all too easily harmed, an turned inside irascible
that been lured to train myself balanced, to hurt myself galled,
be a vulnerable and at the same time avoid hardest pain
(Being all wounds intact and lulling my fairest dream again)
Have ragged myself to come down to the others alikeness;
to obstinately be on exception as an unknown curiosity
But… One thing will lead to the last ― In to an unsolvable
(Remained left in a late set autumn, in a capricious ― In a timeless)
Finally my anguish cuts me done.
It is late.
Care not to carve in overripe wood more now.
Wide awake.
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SPRING FLOWERS, AGAIN
Took these yesterday, at the same place as last year. It reminded me of my life: Doing the same thing over and over and returning.
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TRANCE
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