All posts by admin

Landscape November 24, 2014 3:27:43 PM – 3:29:51 PM

My one pen is red and the other is black. Notes. Descriptions. All around I could only pull myself together to read a few random lines. It was before the diamonds, even before the movement of my fingers through shadows, through hair, through town plan after town plan. That we never really become a part of the world. Darkness gathers outside and I feel your heart against my skin. What shall we do with the violent sky? I flick through the pages of some random book.

Sentences are an ocean. Sentences are an ocean. Sentences are an ocean.

Ocean November 24, 2014 2:49:47 PM – 2:51:51 PM

I’ve stalled on the threshold of the day. Can I write that? It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface of everything. It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface of everything. It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface of everything. It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface of everything.

There is something about places brim-full of traces of things that have happened. It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface of everything. It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface of everything. It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface o

Ocean November 24, 2014 2:42:41 PM – 2:44:29 PM

It was only the sense of wind, of sand, of darkness, of the distant functions of my body, the quiet (that was never quiet). The intimacy in writing. Like sitting on a tongue, just looking out there. I don’t want to lose you, I whispered in your dream, and let my heart beat softly against your body. Sentences whispered through the laundry and dropped a few caresses on my skin. Glass hands. When I woke up, my dreams had always left a trap behind.

Conversation November 24, 2014 2:39:20 PM – 2:41:33 PM

What shall we do with the violent sky?

Who was it that wrote: Like another day where that was impossible.

I drew black squares on your skin to make sure everything was real. Sometimes a couple in love will come across each other and shrug their shoulders at the mind of the sun. For every layer of meaning in the stones. When I said your name, all I heard was the quiet whisper through the sand.

Conversation November 3, 2014 3:42:42 AM – 3:43:34 AM

The clothes on my body hangs on my body.

We have the same eyes.

You put it in my window, on my window sill. I am on the other side of the sea. We were still, we were still quivering, quivering down to the smallest details. We have neither curtains nor tight schedules. By the outermost shores we found a small, green stone. I could feel the fragile truth.

Conversation November 3, 2014 3:31:53 AM – 3:36:13 AM

Desertion. You mustn’t disappear. And we awoke. I don’t know where we disappeared.

You can be in this landscape. And we thought of the smallest details, the atoms, molecules, substances reacting with substances. I don’t know where we disappeared. I don’t know where we disappeared.

I don’t know where we disappeared. I don’t know where we disappeared. I don’t know where we disappeared. I don’t know where we disappeared. I don’t know where we disappeared. I don’t know where we disappeared. I don’t know where we disappeared. I don’t know where we disappeared.

Ocean June 21, 2014 12:21:39 PM – 12:23:01 PM

The plain turns into darkness and stone. I awoke and lay there and saw your breathing follow up on the landscape of the duvets with little tremors and soft, undulating movements. There is something about places filled with things that will happen. What, hangs. As if someone had written, blindly, on their own memories. The joy that sailed on the threshold of the night in streams of black. I love to wake up and see you wake up.

Conversation June 21, 2014 12:11:00 PM – 12:12:25 PM

Not forget the rivers in the ears. When you touch me, when our bodies are quite close, we are part of each other.

We thought about words we could not forget. About the standstill of the landscape and the dark sky and the Earth’s tints of grey. To transform this room into another. The books rested around the coffee. They turn away from the outer mountains and return to the luminous houses, the noise and their own weird bodies.

Ocean June 21, 2014 11:57:07 AM – 11:59:33 AM

It was only the sense of wind, of sand, of darkness, of the distant functions of my body, the quiet (that was never quiet).

Impossible to get in there. It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface of everything.

I sailed across the desert, drifted across the sand. In every day remnants of meaning slid along with me. The northern lights quivering in your voice.

Ocean June 21, 2014 11:42:39 AM – 11:44:17 AM

The light followed the shadows and found reflection in the flagstones, the windows, the darkness. The books sketched their own direction. Blue. The trees.

Blue. The ideal, said the old dog, is a mumbling idiot at dawn. Blue. The mad sky. I found a line somewhere under my bookcase. Blue. In the night we write new books, and for every time we breathe in, others breathe out. The air and the songs of the Earth. Blue. Blue. Blue.

Blue. Blue. Blue. Blue. Blue. Blue.