A Furtive Glance

when the day comes
the world wide web
will groan into life,
a parasitic force,
huge and monstrous,
of sub nature
between rock and plant

looking back in history
we only see ourselves,
yet a furtive glance
at the days to come
sees beckoning hands
for our sharpest swords
and all the love
we can muster.


Mystery Drama

The Goetheanum

For twelve weeks,
twelve long weeks Maria,
I dripped with sweat
beneath the colours
of world evolution
on this stage of
utter loneliness,
we the stage hands
(bühnen helfers)
scurried like church
mice at the altar
of your becoming,
you never spoke to me,
but memory will never
let you go, having seen
your art, your mastery,
when from the wings,
in hushed shadows
I watched you,
as if you softly breathed
another soul into you,
my body shivered in awe,
seeing you become
someone else.



I wanted to love you Sarajevo
I listened to cello music
with strings and harp
and hoped you would greet me
with open arms

I painted a room as I said I would
with layers of translucent red
a pastel shade
not the sharpness of rose
or bitterness

the people are looking but not seeing
or was it just the ghosts I sensed
following me
every lonely mile
I walked and prayed

the contours of your face are beautiful
and the sunlight softens the scars
the cello plays
I did want to love you