Thursday, May 27, 2010

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first
the smell of fresh snow and the sky promises of grace.
it is the things undone.
at least for the moment,
because the snow is still untouched.

it snows tomorrow, she thinks.
and it would be an opportunity: go
. go to him.
reinvent themselves all over again - can.

invent "myself. I invent new, "she had said,
almost pleadingly, almost threatening.
"invent myself again!"

the possibility seemed within reach: his
something different, be different
than those they had become.

what is still possible?
a man, a child. a house.
they had set up and used to the ,
what is called standard.

the scent of fresh snow.
and a kiss from is long past time
not long enough ago
to her heart in turmoil and to bring the time
from the rhythm.

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second
the child puts one foot before the other
and makes a sentence.
you look in the eye with a fixed view.

"mama!"

it will be his first snow. It will amaze you.
it will catch it and melt on your tongue leave.
it will throw up and left one angel.

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third
the man moves to the city by bike, the icy.
his hands in front of glowing red cold.
lost in thought.

"where are the gloves?
in the chest? I lost it in the library,
between all the books and thought? .
so distracted, so distracted I am, "

a wind comes and awakens an idea:
he will show the kind of snow. tomorrow. in the park.

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fourth
the other white nothing of its existence.
he is a long time already left.
with the last letter have they had taken leave
and the abandoned forgotten.

they know about each other.
he does not know that she remembers.
she does not think he remembers.

it snows tomorrow.
it is the time of miracles and
the unexpected encounter.

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5th
it is cold. she felt the icy breath
between windows and sims and
be in the view.
longing locations.

the forest behind the house.
beyond the Garden of the lake, and all the berries ripen.
had not bitten they get down.
skin breath halting, dry - they caught fire.

for hours they walked through the streets for days.
they saw the world through his eyes.
beautiful she was before.
never fragile.

was a familiar place for promising.
they summoned him answer for the credit.
put a spell, they would find that to no way out. to create facts
, to make no decisions have.


they went the whole hog and lost in the detail.
each was to challenge banality,
got any word on injuries.

the wood is still wet. small explosions in the fire.
she takes a hot drink.
cinnamon, cloves and cardamom.
new memories to flame.

comforting childhood images
skate trips of long
the carp ponds far short of village
of frozen eyelashes and red-hot cheeks,
from a time where there were some.

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6th
today there uncertainty. merciless.
they control in the blind flight was aimed at moving
knowing that they already
the evening their validity
and they might have lost their course.

they cling to what they have,
accept and
with growing doubt
its bitter aftertaste.

which harbors doubt a new promise.
he provided a bridge could be
:
they find the magic word.

he is their desert.
she is his desert.
both are close to the die of thirst.

the source of all evil is the memory.
it creeps into the present,
acid-etched like black holes
in the freshly scrubbed, well-stocked reality.

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7th
the home of your dreams.
it haunts them - at night,
if they can not defend themselves.
injured, maimed and homeless.

she sees her children
how they play against crumbling walls.
suspecting nothing.
them because the world still
stories of the place is great.
because their parents still
are the great narrative.

fear. feverish, quivering fear.
will protect them keep
and can keep?
the case is far from up there, under the roof,
the not able to give protection.

incessantly softly pounding raindrops fall into the stale,
it has placed on the ground.
the crowded and rivulets form
are streams to
increase the inflows to
to the raging, screaming,
thundering flow swell ...

from the dream.

she returns
with every breath
a piece
into reality.

seizes
still half asleep,
gets the here and now.
the world
attacked again in the.

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