buewhale

  and in a disturbed sleep I go to bed inside a dream and sleep a disturbed sleep with dreams about going to bed sleeping abruptly and dreaming I'm going to bed and so on. I'm woken up from time to time by the same woman offering me a red velvet toy piano that's out of tune. Kepler 186-f now it rains now it doesn't and before dozing off in the innermost dream-sleep I hear the door slam but it's not a door in my present home but one in a previous one there are no steps but a faint woosh a tiny bodhisattva hovering an inch above the floor is heading towards me. I reach for insect spray but it doesn't work; instead of poison I squeeze out a flock of dolphins and they swim through the walls leaving ripples like when you throw a stone in a lake and take towards space. yea, it's silent that butterfly poet's nightmare but I'm confident my brain is just cleaning itself and having a good time combining all sorts of material into a tale that merely grows f...

the rope I climb I have taken from the spinal cord of a stoned homeless man slowly merging with the flow of acid rain heading for the ocean via the sewers at times it's a snake or a ladder for dwarfs and ambitious ants at times it's a news stand selling old papers “we can only examine processes which are already in the past” the black rider says gulping down the homeless man's dissolving tattoos flat-out broke I sell my reflection for dust I will never die I will die continuously that's the deal of being and being again at some point I will have collected enough coupons to get the holes for the flute I carved from my right femur I give a pizza a sky funeral pigeons and gulls descend from the cake in the sky while I hum Psalm 23 “I shall not want” but I do I do want and it keeps me going and getting me nowhere evaporating without grace - somewhere there's a koi with my name on it … file date: March 24, 2013

  Aquarium the day turns out to be a hot one after a relatively cool start of the summer this anvil of heat and humidity makes my brain think that the rest of the world is in an aquarium too guests are eating outside at the inn and the sound of cutlery on porcelain mixes with Dexter Gordon's sax on the radio from the gardens around my house people are shouting at their dogs everything's a little wrong with everyone today and I sink a giant bubble-blowing diver into the tank and imagine that I imagine that I'm a goldfish with a human mind so I can imagine what a goldfish would think if ... visual disturbances instead of two I see four butterflies at the centre of Time . Akvarie dagen viser sig at være en varm een af slagsen efter en relativ kølig start på sommeren får denne ambolt af varme og fugtighed mig til at tro at resten af verden også er i et akvarium gæster spiser udenfor på kroen og lyden af bestik mod porcelæn blander sig med Dexter Gordons sax fra ra...

there's no breeze and your sweat only adds to the humidity. You watch a tv show about the Antarctica but it doesn't help. They guy downstairs and his drunken friends have an all day Nirvana greatest hits trying to imitate Kurt's voice. heatwave the smell of a teen spirit gone to the dogs … file date: July 30, 2014

 We're pack animals (well, 'they' are, I'm not … and neither are my friends, but …). We all strive to be individual and unique in the same way. I stand in the check-out line in the local shop and a phone goes off. It has the same ring-tone as mine. And some 10 people in the little shop all stare at their phones wondering why it doesn't show anything. I kid you not! the moon doesn't do anything … file date: September 29, 2014

The spuds won't finish earlier just because the egg-timer (spud-timer?) ticks away like a heart in love. On tv they say it has rained for 22 out of 26 days in October. That's a relief: you didn't imagine it. global warning in our darkened eyes the ghost of a dodo … file date: October 10, 2014

then you see that the sunlight is made from needles, it enters your eyes like an enemy. you haven't got any shades and all of your village lies exposed. you open the door and the outside is a whiteout. not again, is the only voice in your head. that which keeps me afloat a flageolet on a g-string … file date: August 14, 2014

  Shooting Stars Half an hour before midnight it's cool enough to go out. Villages don't hold hold on to the heat after nightfall as cities do. They don't hold on to much but the air they need for birds. shooting stars fight shooting stars on tv . Stjeneskud En halv time før midnat er det køligt nok til at gå ud. Landsbyer holder ikke på varmen på samme måde, som storbyer gør. De holder ikke på ret meget udover luften, de skal bruge til fugle stjerneskud kæmper mod stjerneskud på tv … file date: July 11, 2014

still life And then the rain came. The sound of it mixes with the water splashing into the neighbour's fish pond. I roll a cigaret and try to imagine what my rooms would feel like if another person was here. Would they feel smaller? still life I'm satisfied knowing that stars can't fall --*-- stilleben Og så kom regnen. Lyden af den blandes med lyden af vand, der plasker ud i naboens fiskedam. Jeg ruller en cigaret og forsøger at forestille mig, hvordan mine stuer ville fornemmes, hvis der var en anden person her. Ville de føles mindre? stilleben jeg er tilfreds med at vide at stjerner ikke kan falde … file date: July 12, 2014  

  background radiation The temperature and humidity has gone down a bit. I can breathe again. The guy downstairs tries to sing along to a tune I can't hear. He's drunk and heavily medicated. I catch an “I love you”. That's it. background radiation the whisper of our ancestors . baggrundsstråling Temperaturen og luftfugtigheden er faldet en smule. Jeg kan ånde igen. Fyren nedenunder prøver at synge med på en melodi, jeg ikke kan høre. Han er fuld og kraftigt medicineret. Jeg fanger lige et ”I love you”. Det er det. baggrundsstråling vore forfædres hvisken … file date: July 12, 2014