Poems 09, 10, 11, 12

Poem 09
You ought to grind away at
his powerful laboratory, let him pay
for being so secretive. Is he researching
winterday's twillight? Then run
each morning through

the grinder, chew every twig
of green spring in sequence.
In his view the establishment
of such opposites can only
be lost, or mislaid like an hour's sleep.



Poem 10
Du skal få en dag i mårå.
- Alf Prøysen

Yeah, they promise
a clean slate each time
tomrrow arrives, but mine
is clean right now, my words
still out of order, and midnight
just went by



Poem 11
Possible beginnings for my autobiographical novel

1) The protagonist gets up in the morning
or 2) he roams an allegory of his labyrinthic mind
looking for a newly discovered
book or 3) warns the governement of impending disaster
caused by that book

or perhaps he 4) finds himself trapped
in an underground classroom
by a beast with the head and digestive tract of a bull
or 5) has to explain to the reader
the difficulty of knowing where to begin



Poem 12
slightly out of
step, walking by