Breathing Space
I sat in the corner, not in the cradle
That’s how it was
Birds flew North or South
Funny to think on it
The sea the moon
Whispering
Still it’s beautiful tuning this piano
As now I’m old
And what is poetry?
**
We’re all of us two children
Then four adults
Look over there:
The factories brooding
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No blank space anywhere here
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Humming a tune
Drinking morning coffee
Thinking: dreams are not the same as plans
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This I can promise–
I don’t want to turn back
Where I came from
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The poet Anselm Hollo
Had the best laugh I’ve ever heard
It was a deep “let’s change the architecture” affair
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Transtromer:
The samurai looks insignificant beside his armor
Of black dragon scales
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I think everyone should do their own version of the “Egyptian Book of the Dead”–
Yes Pharaoh so sweet
With his honey packed ears
Eyelashes
Dusted with assassin bugs
Insects dressed as ash
Laying in wait
For anything that moves
Well it’s safe
The king never starves
But neither
Is he rescued…
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Haavikko: “And yet we must have a word with happiness”
Kuusisto: “If happiness talks back give me a call…”
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Lucky the horse with butterflies on his mane
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I’ve always liked off stage instruments
The hidden ones
Planet of the Blind 