The love of Isaac

I am becoming whole
In my writhing striving
With and against God
His command to love him
And others as myself
And sacrifice me and them
My sons and daughters
And my friends that may be my enemies
To him
How can I slice my love
With the sword of God’s love
In three parts
And boil them in a cauldron
On Mt. Moriah.

BS

I am a philosopher that despises the conduct of philosophy
I am a philosopher that conducts by living and eating
I am a philosopher because I am not a philosopher
I am a philosopher for contradicting myself
For despising its conduct yet having conducted it
To be able to act what I want to be in order not to be.

Passionless

wem soll man glauben
wenn man sich selbst vertuschen versucht hat
indessen dass die elan der gefieder sich ins
graue
jeder anderens gefieder verschmiert hat.

soon after

There I was
There I am
When
The moon said
The shadows are light
The desert whispered
The rest is at peace
The dog barked
For the taste of my flesh
The bugs crawled
Before he could maul
And the stars teared
For the sleep
the sun rose
burning all of -....

Under leaves

The songs you let breathe
They leave me
Behind the shadows

Oh come, and sit down
With me

The words you let spill
They leave me
Confused in shadows

Oh come, and sit down
With me

Come sit down
I am tired

If these abstracts escape me
If I am wrong again
If need concrete motivations
Like your lips and hands
If I need you
Wake me.

Come, and sit down
With me

I am sorry dear
I have forgotten you here
in eternal shadows
they grow over my eyes
the willow of death
only lets me forget myself
as it branches grow out
in front of me

oh come, and sit down
with me
sleeping this long
is lonely.

Behind the Moon

Say you’re fine
Say that you trust the man in the moon
And no one else, not even me

Because that star is the only one with
Visible shadows
The only ones seen at night

Say you’re sure
Say that you know what comes behind the moon
And send me a postcard with your memories

Because you breathing is shallow
Your skin is yellow
And your name is escaping the day

"Do you know my poetry" - Dead Man

the world doesn't dream of itself,
so who is,
when living awake feels like one.
nothing of a noetic structure
not even a poetic rupture
to explain the rift in my senses
from the grass, stairs, fence
a body and a drink
and of that which is in my head

I am here, you there
and delibly apart
still I can't make sense of it.
and the longer I try
it all becomes more faded into the
grey ocean
until there's nothing left to be.