– bareheaded I fished along the cliffs –the sun sprinkled burning needlesinto my naked hair – – when the storm has splintered the wavesagainst the cliffs,the foam lies rockinglike corks on the water,like a running girl’sshort warm breath – – […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: night
in the night we doubt – small weak humansin large empty houses –there is too much space in the night –we cannot fill the darknesswith known things – the anxietycreeps like ratswith long cold tailsout of black holes –anxiety for […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: why not?
why is it notlike a straight and well-kept roadat all?without too much traffic,without too much noise and dirt?why do we not standhigh up,at the one endand see the house, where we are going?without needing to ask,what kind of house it […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: formative years
our nightsdrowned in the song of wineand the laps of women – we hoped,that the force would come to uslike a stray dogand lay itself at our feet – to some of us came the longing –which tore our fates […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: for my head
I am a child,playing with its toy –my toy:a ball with eyes on it – I roll itand throw it at the wall –I pat itand throw it into the water – perhaps in the endmy toy was broken –but a […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: the port
o, port –in your long, patient nightwe come,while our stepszigzagging forgets the seain favour of your street’s firm horizon – into your lap we throw,with the proud gesture of the rich,our stingily saved-up longing,the thought joys of our nights – […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: men
– the antelope turns its large eyes out in the nighttowards the rustling grass of the steppe,which carefully rises behind the glossy black hooves –– the eyes turn towards the grass,where the wind and the moon teasingly build antelope-enemies,and it flieswith […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: death
why we live –yes –it happens, that we are so happy, that we sing –perhaps we will be so joyful, so happy,that we will someday quietly walk away,out of anxiety for no longer hearing the youthful laughter of life –
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: for a young friend
words –it is the dummy the baby gets, so it doesn’t scream –words –it is the whore for those, whom nobody loves –it is the chair of the old man – do not make crumbs of the fresh bread of […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: the new human
truth –sparkling brains –the crystal-clear, exposing thoughtskill the stupid and dullwith painful scorn – strength –trembling muscles,held tightened by iron-hard will,way ahead of all others –hear, the shouting of the mass! dance –whirling legs –with slim necks and hips –rhythm, […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: the great man
he walks kickingwith giant-stepsand treads so hard on the ground –but the grass,it rises up again,where he placed his large foot,and the earth smiles, as if nothing happened,and the flowers think of other things – he walks roaring,with thunder-voice,so that […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: rest
the red suns turns small and distant,desire sinks like a limp rubber-animal –glued-together limbs loosenslowly bursting –happy smiles with eyes closed –timid kisses – not as a request,but as: how lovely it was –hair is brushed aside –the bodies push […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: grey
the grey iron bed,the faint grey-green lighton the matt grey door to number 14 – with fingers in tight yellow-grey skinthe nurse gives me my powder –my consciousness floats awayin a heavy, wooly mist – then I hear through the […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: prose
– I think, most people are clever –not so happy, but clever and thoughtful – – I seek a friend – – he shall walk hand in hand with me,and he shall say:I know nothing either – understand nothing,except that […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: for my parents
I did not become what you expected –I became everything you had feared –you let me grow upsustained by your privations.you raised me with hidden tears –raised meto live your life – continue it –shall I say:that is how you […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: it
not that thought,that I still walk on the path –that I still have the safe mountain wallby my side –that flowers grow there –and that the grass muffles the hardness of the step –that the cliff irradiates the heat of the sun […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: eighteen years old
man and woman –black square sofawith pale flowers –the large light’s turned off –a faint lamp burnsyellow – they kiss each otherlong –they squeeze each otherhard –as if there was something,which may not be – her shoulders are bare –breaststhrough […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: afterwards
– with hard iron-bootsI will stepand turn my iron-heel – – a woman sits cryingon an unmade bed –yesterday the sheets were white and smooth,yesterday her child lived – – with hardiron-bootsI will stepand turn my iron-heel,to squash the laughing […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: the new times
it is life,where ice-cold downpours whip the earth cleanand free of dirt,where lightnings spread the shady fogs,which cover the old shit, in the dark rooms –it is life,when the unhealthy, pale amphibians,which lurk with red eyes,shrink and crackin the sun’s […]
Gustaf Munch-Petersen: human
human –whether you are strong, and your voice is heard by many,or you are small and weak,whether you are dumb or clever,what is that compared with all the restin the world –nothing –the mountains are tall or low,the roses red […]