a piece of cake / et stykke kage

there's still

blood on my pants

(dried up - cut my pinkie)

I take another slice of cake

at her first birthday

                                                                      der er stadig

                                                                      blod på mine bukser

                                                                      (tørt - skar mig i lillefingeren)

                                                                       jeg tager et stykke kage mere

                                                                       til hendes første fødselsdag

3 ku

a glitch between synapses

the pinned butterfly

won't

en smutter mellem synapser

den spiddede sommerfug

vil ikke

*

speak to me about sailors

the dust said

meanwhile an apple

turns worm

tal til mig om sømænd

sagde støvet

imens bli'r et æble

til orm

*

the instant-face

on a withered birch leaf

a correlation between

lakes and steps

straks-ansigtet

på et vissent birkeblad

en korrelation mellen

søer og skridt

apocalipstick / apokalæbestift

nothing new exchanging birds for a bit of space

ikk' noget nyt skifter fugle ud med noget af rummet

aiming at the cup of horrors and a miracle-smurf

sigter mod rædslernes kop og en mirakel-smølf

navel-fluff-moons the path ahead hidden

navle-fnuller-måner stien fremad er skjult

intestine necklace need I talk louder?

tarmhalskæde skal jeg tale højere?

black blood the cucumber rots beside a glass-eye

sort blod agurken rådner ved siden af glasøjet

apocalipstick

apokalæbestift

steaks and reptiles / steaks og krybdyr

lamb chops my head back on my neck

lammekoteletter mit hoved tilbage på min hals

                                       small talk with a flamingo

                                       there aren't any chairs left

                                       in the crying-room

                                       småsnak med en flamingo

                                       der er ingen stole tilbage

                                       i græderummet

steak and potatoes clouds settle as mountains

steak og kartofler skyer falder til ro som bjerge

sombre reptiles along the tracks to Amygdala

dystre krybdyr langs sporene til Amygdala

giant squid / kæmpeblæksprutte

a giant squid

emerges from an ashtray

of broken off filters

en kæmpeblæksprutte

dukker op af et askebæger

med afbrækkede filtre

the letter pt 4 / brevet del 4

Of course, as it goes with mysteries like this, my mind started working with “who, what and why” on its own and - coincidence or not - I caught a flu with attacks of high fever. A perfect state for drifting in and out of dreams or alternate states of realities where I could converse with the possible ghost of Mr. Monte. If he actually hung around, that is. Or rather: he would be able to “talk” to me. I could do nothing.

I started receiving bits of information in a sensory way: visions, smells, different sensations in different parts of my hurting body. When I needed a break - and I did, Mr. Monte being a bit too eager at times - I swallowed a handful of mixed painkillers ...

              wash away any dike

              built by man'o'muds like me

             oh, lady of waters

Selvfølgelig, som det nu er med mysterier som dette, begyndte min bevidsthed at arbejde med “hvem, hvad og hvorfor” ganske af sig selv og - tilfældigt eller ej - jeg fik en influenza med anfald af høj feber. En passende tilstand til at svæve ind og ud af drømme eller ændrede virkeligheder, hvor jeg kunne tale med Hr. Montes spøgelse. Hvis han ellers var til stede, altså. Eller rettere: det han kunne tale til mig, hvis han ville. Jeg kunne ikke gøre noget.

Jeg begyndte at modtage bidder af information via sanserne: syner, dufte, fornemmelser af forskellig art I forskellige dele af min smertende krop. Når jeg havde brug for en pause - og det havde jeg, Hr. Monte var noget ivrig til tider - slugte jeg en håndfuld blandede hovedpinepiller …

             skyl ethvert dige væk

             bygget af muddermænd som jeg

            oh, vandenes frue

Parallels published

From the cover of "Parallels":

The publication of Johannes S. H. Bjerg's parallels marks a watershed in the history of the development of haiku related arts. He's created an entirely new form for the genre, one that plays like wind-chimes. The haiku do not restrict themselves to three lines and are arranged side by side, so that the poems can be read vertically (more literal) in two columns as two separate poems or horizontally (which gives another yet grafted meaning) and allows them to be read as one poem. The book contains some of the most moving poems I've read in the genre or in any genre or modern poetry, for that matter. Don't miss the opportunity to read this book. It will delight and amaze you, too.

Jack Galmitz, American renowned haijin and poet, critic and writer.

And the publisher writes:

Parallels is a unique take on English Language Haiku. The poems are formatted side by side leaving the reader a choice, to read the pieces as a complete poem or as fragments of poems, each adding to the other. On first read the book may appear as a surrealist work, but after careful study Bjerg's humanity shines through. A must for haiku lovers. A brilliant example of the evolution of short-verse.

It will be available through Amazon later this week.

Click here