Kugellager Der Aufseher betrat den ihm zugeteilten Bereich, kümmerte sich jeden Tag neu um die Ordnung im Kugellager, verschob bei Bedarf einige Kugeln, die über Nacht von ihrer Stelle gerollt waren und neu eingerichtet werden mußten. Wenn die Langeweile zuschlug, nahm er sich eine Handvoll Kugeln und jonglierte so lange, bis ihm eine der Kugeln… Thomas Reichl weiterlesen
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Gerry Gray died 16 November 2001
Somewhat Different Poems – a memorial PLATEAU Talk, just talk. It’s enough, it has to be, A drought in all else. Cruelty dictating to romance. A wish, just a wish, Human at any age. Suppression reigns As well it must. A look, just a look, Cat and king personified. But, Oh! so green! Costing nothing,… Gerry Gray died 16 November 2001 weiterlesen
John Kidd
Living in Proximity to the Tasman Bridge 1. From a window. Colourlessly, ghosts of cars, trucks, buses, relentlessly, into and out of the sight-line, cross the bridge. Silent puffs of cloud, discreet molecules, almost real. They are cloud, they come from cloud, go into cloud, elevated. Beneath them is the grey insipid sky of the… John Kidd weiterlesen
Anna Hoffmann
FUNDUS UTERUS VULGÄRLATEIN (I) DIE GRAMMATIK DER ABHÄNGIGKEIT schlag mich beiß mich gib mir tiernamen eine endgültig abgesetzte serie von schauergeschichten oder das mutterprojekt das gescheiterte wollen: meine hypotenuse reagiert sauer und das feindbild scribbelt oberschenkel auf papierhorden. die gebrauchsanweisung eines toasters reicht heute zum erleiden also zur lyrik abgerubbelt von den weltneuheiten der schreibgeräte… Anna Hoffmann weiterlesen
Paul Tylor
New Digs When the FOR SALE sign was hammered deep into the trimmed, front lawn of Miss Shimner’s house, the neighbors took notice. Miss Shimner had lived on the cul-de-sac longer than the others. She was not married, but very sociable, and very attractive. And everyone, especially the females of the couples living in the… Paul Tylor weiterlesen
Patrick McCauley
Three poems 1. In the middle of red light Amsterdam Flashing knives, bicycling Amsterdam Rain dripping, crowd pissing Herring roll Amsterdam. In the graffittisteegs Of old dutch shoe Amsterdam. In the gracelace of sexy Beautiful full liped Amsterdam. In Van Gogh one eared explosions Amsterdam. In sunflower sanity Amsterdam. In the silk blonde narrow streets… Patrick McCauley weiterlesen
Maree Jaeger
Some Poems Little Pulses (for Chris) The slow eclipse of evening gives itself over in surrender. As we walk, the trees have never looked taller or whiter, or more fragile or so strong. The kiss of moss, warm and earthy between lips entwining the web and wood in us. Above; spaces, air pockets for emotions… Maree Jaeger weiterlesen
Duane Locke
ANSWERS MY LIFE If you should ask me how I have spent my life, I would hesitate to answer, Then would answer: Among a thousand swans on the Dike Road in Holland, Alone among Viennese waltzes from CD’s. I would pause and say I only mentioned the happy moments. I did not mentioned my… Duane Locke weiterlesen
Karl-Heinz Gutmann
Gebrauchsgrafik
David Wright
Poetry from Illinois Fidelities i “What you come to love will surprise you,” said, my father straightening my bow tie. “I need to go to your mother.” His bent head brushed my cheek, his lips grazing slightly my forehead and eyes. In the pictures, he smiles with my bride and his, with his mother, arm… David Wright weiterlesen