objet trouvé

Det fortabte digt

Det der ikke blev skrevet

At det skulle være begyndt: ”Nogle gange tænker jeg, at når jeg lukker øjnene, kan jeg ikke se noget. Og at jeg alligevel kan se med lukkede øjne: at min stol står derovre, at al ting er på sin plads.

Hvis jeg vender mig i sengen, så mit hovede er i fodenden, og skulle jeg et øjeblik slumre hen, for derved at glemme, at jeg var omvendt: så ville alting stå forkert.”

At jeg ikke kan læse hvordan det vil slutte

Alt det der ikke blev skrevet, som ikke skulle udvikles, og ingen form fandt, intet ført hen, eller konkluderet og afrundet: ikke pointeret

Dette at det i morgen ikke blot er glemt, men aldrig har været husket, af nogen, for noget, eller fordi

Der skulle måske ikke stå ”stol”?

End ikke jeg ville vide hvad jeg tænkte på. Eller hvordan det skulle slutte, for at slutte rigtigt. Og ikke med en fejl, eller et komma,

Le poème perdu (version française)

Ce qui n’a pas été écrit

Qu’il aurait dû commencer : “Parfois, je me dis que quand je ferme mes yeux, je ne vois plus rien. Et que je vois quand même avec les yeux fermés : que ma chaise est par là, que tout est à sa place.

Si je me tourne dans ma couche de façon à ce que ma tête soit au pied du lit, si je m’assoupis un instant et que j’oublie que je suis converti, tout sera au mauvais endroit”.

Que je ne peux pas lire comment cela va se terminer

Tout ce qui n’a pas été écrit, qui ne devait pas être développé, qui n’a pas trouvé de forme, qui n’a pas abouti, qui n’a pas été conclu, qui n’a pas été complété, qui n’a pas été mis en valeur.

Que demain, non seulement on l’oubliera, mais on ne s’en souviendra jamais, de personne, pour rien, ou parce que…

Peut-être cela ne devrait-il pas être écrit “chaise” ?

Même moi, je ne saurais pas à quoi je pensais. Ou comment cela devrait se terminer, pour bien se terminer. Et pas avec une erreur ou une virgule,

The lost poem (English version)

What was not written

That it should have begun: “Sometimes I think that when I close my eyes, I cannot see anything. And that I can still see with my eyes closed: that my chair is over there, that everything is in its place.

If I turn round in bed so that my head is at the bottom end, and if I were to doze off for a moment and forget that I was converted, then everything would be in the wrong place.”

That I cannot read how it will end

All that was not written, that was not to be developed, and found no form, nothing led to, or concluded and rounded off: not emphasised

That tomorrow it will not only be forgotten, but will never have been remembered, by anyone, for anything, or because

Maybe it shouldn’t say “chair”?

Even I wouldn’t know what I was thinking. Or how it should end, to end right. And not with a mistake or a comma,

Re: Nah, this sucks…

A fragment in English.

I hesitate to write poetic texts in English as I am not an English speaking native. This fragment ended up in an un-numbered notebook due to a conversation some time ago with a friend from Brooklyn who sort of suggested I should write something in English, maybe.

The experience convinced me that probably I shouldn’t do that.

Later today I did it anyway. Listening to an album by Nala Sinephro and absentminded browsing the works of Elsa & Johanna then, as I cleaned up my room, I stumbled on my discarded off-piste notebook and messed around with it a bit.

The title is due to the fact that I mailed it to myself, corrected something, then replied, still agreeing that it most likely sucked.

However I think the title is nice, well, you know, so…

Music I listened to: Space 1.8, Nala Sinephro , Warp Records WARP324.

(Note that this is not an opinion on Nala Sinephro’s music — I totally love Nala Sinephro., She has her heart in her music… It is absolutely wonderful what she and the other musicians on that recording have created so the title below is about my writing reflection as described …)

Re: Nah, this sucks…

Oh yes I know
Why are you saying that?
I don’t know
But you just said, you know?
I know

Those were the moments
when wine drunk me

Now there is nowhere to turn
as even nothing has been taken

What to remember what to keep
if there is none to remember it for?

I’m not that poor
I can make another tea
throw the rest out
we can squeeze Earth
a bit more
won’t be room for all of us
but those remaining would
have global heating and
forever float in pink hot fudge
polystyrene foam
happy bubbles
no need to buy
rubber ducks
we can go
to the beach
and have a swim
among all of them
in space
the oceans
giant vaginas and penis fish
chasing love
in lukewarm caffè latte dosed
with plastic pellets


I know that one they
said it had talent
could be a star
failed spectacularly
imploded to
black holes
the rap music
beyond horizons of events
a palace of space
is turning turning


Your little trash punk jazz in Paris

Paris 2022. On the advert sign the city of Paris kindly reminds us that undeclared disposal of bulky trash is fined by 135 euros …well …
The other side. You can not help wondering if being put out on the street make it so that we, in fact, ourselves and our teddy bears, are bulky trash too?

Lost and found in Paris 2021

Book found abandoned in the trash after the book market at Parc Georges Brassens, Paris 15e, in France, closed this very Sunday night.

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