Efter en tid
rammer en sangfugl plet
Hvis man er heldig
bliver man
melodisk transporteret
Ravnen har arbejdet
længe
på det
En dag
kom
Pharoah Sanders
opdagede raw sound
pure love
Det var umagen værd
Thank you
Pharoah thank you
Universal
Cosmic
Love is everywhere
love is
love
everywhere Pharoah
transcended
(Journey to …)
one
Splintret erindring samler resterne op diskret tilbagelænet med violiner i karantæne hvad nytter en banjo i denne situation efterårsstorme sender alt videre til bage til ny begyndelse noget dette at tale om der skal leves må leves at der ikke er mere at vente på selv i de endeløse øjeblikke hvor alle venter på næste side i dirigentens partitur tæppet trækkes væk for eller til afslører alt det velkendte i ny fortolkning « åh nej » vi må udbryde vi må bryde ud være til være med komme til festen finde frem til pindemadderne det der skal til?
Midterdelen af bølgen står med ét firkantet i geometrisk afmagt og balancerer cirklens kvadratur mod surfets uanstændige kurve protesten frakturérer det elegante swung tonsvis af salt vand vibrerer kortvarigt og brækker da i tusind stumper ud over det hele intet ingen intet-som-helst ved længere hvor dét er hvordan dét endte at komme tilbage til dét vægtløsheden kan kun være en drøm ikke at den ikke skal søges igen men da og altid kun fremad næste den næste bølge for denne er definitivt væk
Blå væske blokeret bag barriere sort olieret vand flydende labyrint mellem fragmenteret poesi håbløst eksperiment indsmurt i massiv tjære revnede plastikspande rejser næbet og flakser afmægtigt med vingestumper bevæget smerte desperat vilje til reproduktion til sidste øjeblik dog forsøge kæmpe sig fri og atter svæve galden det grønne måske gullige sprøjter ud af næb koger i indvolde snart den sidste plastprop det sidste skruelåg fra diet coke skal lukke sylten på endnu denne garbagepatch citizen tragisk havfugl styrtet digter druknet drøm
Og måske lever verden i tiltro hensigtsmæssig vandrer skuer mod fjerne bjerge de er der stadig stadig væk i vejen for udsigten deraf ansigtets bekymrede træk tiltro til at næste runde giver bonus at trods sneklædte tinder da kan man fortsat finde parkeringsplads til køretøjer hensigtsmæssige tiltag at køre rockmusik ud over det hele så de da kan forstå det troen på nyfalden sne at den rent faktisk faldt med et brag i nattens fløjl nogle vil vantro hævde at den svævede at den dækkede for fantastisk udsigt arkitekttegnet beton omend kun forbigående tiltro til at det grå findes de grå eminencer spurvene tunge regnmættede skyer bjergmassiv salt vinterbølge strid kuling himmel og hav i et vind trækker hvidt skum i strimer iskoldt salt vand slår ansigtet hånden mod ansigtet det slår hårdt kutters levende væsen fødderne følelsen balancen må holde i riggen heldigvis kun kortvarigt det varer ikke ved trods det hensigtsmæssige er noget flammende rødt Solen: Blændende hvid Natten: Sort havnen flaprende klaprende urolig men dog stille og nogenlunde vandret
After a peaceful summer with neither mice nor mosquitoes (for a change) a mouse found it’s way into the house. Made immense sounds kept me awake all night, ate my Swedish bread and shat in my marmalade. I looked out next day and found that a Cat Buddha had materialized.
I see, I said to myself, that’s what drove that mouse to party like hell.
Now, a few days later mysterious and creepy events ensued as I caught the intruder in the act munching my bread – again. Startled, but without hesitation, it performed a blistering cinematic kung-fu parkour running over a thin metal wire, jumping on coffee cans flying over my teapot diving almost vertically down (about 20 times it’s own height) not slowing down and then all of a sudden manage to vanish without trace.
Very nice! However: I got traps! Lots of them. Humane traps: licking up the sweetest coriander honey on a freshly baked bread crump it will die in gourmet-heaven without ever knowing what hit it. Or at least that’s the idea. But something is weird; I had noticed that the running kung-fu rodent seemed somewhat big for a mouse, and as previously mentioned, it did make a hell of a noise during the first night; sure mice can do that, but still? Also, I was convinced mice could not reach the bread shelf on the metal grid, normal mice that is. Anyway, I set up the traps and night falls. As soon lights are out I hear running noise and then ZSCMACK!! I say a little prayer “Oh mighty courageous mouse rest in peace”, feel victorious, so fast, it worked like a charm, should I make a speech, take a picture? I go inspect the trap and I find blood splatter alright, but no dead mouse?? It got away, but how? Another trap goes off, without noise, ah, I say to myself annoyed, a dud, setup too sensitive it was and I feel somewhat stupid. But wait, a mouse there?? A small normal one this time??? I got … it? But then … um … what was the other “thing”? It was’nt this one; that got send of into neverneverland with a clean hit as intended?
Days later a certain nauseating smell begin to appear, somewhat of old men (not very reassuring for my ego), and I notice something under a radiator. At close inspection I see blood stains. Now, under the radiator is another trap – a counter measure against invasive ants, double sided strongly glued tape (Which by the way the spiders have figured out how to use as they have found a preference for hovering just over it – a coincidence?). The other guy was stuck in it. The other guy? I pulled the tape out, a slightly smelly dead rodent followed. It. Was. Big. With a tail, a big tail! Last time I saw such a tail it definitely was not attached to a mouse. A rat!! It was a young rat, still small, but indisputable a freaking rat!
As discussed in my post how-to-patch-a-hole-in-the-roof-totally-bio the concept was to seed a forest of date palms after casually enjoying a box of dried dates and then count on the palms to provide natural cover – eventually. Obviously this approach would ask for some patience; however, how has it gone so far, actually (you may ask)?
Anyway, I have to admit to throwing in some other sorts of trees to enjoy a book about cultivating Bonzaï trees I got at Quai d’Art Estampes Japonaises anciennes . Also, one of the date seeds didn’t come from the box I consumed but was offered to me as a gift by two adorable young women from Seoul late night at the reception where I work. Now, then (Surely this is important!): Which one of them is the gift?
If I decided to weed out excess palms then the one left should be that one surely!
Anyone who knows palm trees can see the problem: too many trees too little room and moving them would really require assistance from a brain surgeon to meticulously sort out all the roots without breaking as much as a millimeter of any one of them (As if you damage the root of a palm tree, it just dies, no way around that)…
In any case the summer breeze playing with this baby forest is how things stands now.