Thursday, January 24, 2013

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

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

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





Monday, January 14, 2013

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







Sunday, January 13, 2013

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

Thursday, January 10, 2013

giant squid / kæmpeblæksprutte

a giant squid
emerges from an ashtray
of broken off filters




en kæmpeblæksprutte
dukker op af et askebæger
med afbrækkede filtre

Sunday, January 6, 2013

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








Wednesday, January 2, 2013

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