Pulse

All those migraines and bloodshot eyes

the insistent urge to adjust the carpet fringe

oases of peace among pots and pans

among bedspreads smooth on the bed

of no return

Who could have guessed that the path

leads through a narrow neck

a tight chest

shallow thin sleep

not through threading softly

not through a cat's claw

Your life is not the first

that I should

kindly slip away from

Framing

Summer is half-demolished deprived

of attention by jackhammers thundering

empty streets warmed

by cooled cars prolonging

echoing huffing and screeching

We say the whole world

by which we mean

I you and the contacts

that we share

Little eggplants and sauce

underneath the noodles

After the third sip

you're finally starting to

gradually spill the beans

Matter-of-factly

you mention a tumor

and a planned treatment

cutting of hair shopping

for kindergarten paying

the rent and utilities

Ashes to ashes, code to code

Sooner or later a situation

will evolve into someone's reaction

On the surface you're Luna

Mona Lisa on fire

Off season

The tide draws lines in the stones

Rounded rocks and pebbles

Thin foam and coarse sand

Larger and larger pebbles and concrete

The tide is Hypnos

I'm a kitten in a shady

terracotta pot

I don't know where I begin

where my limbs are

The city is melting faster and faster

I dream of days in a trench coat

and of wet leaves