Cave darkness, nocturnal darkness, cells pulse,
darkness of blood and muscles,
the child looks out
unborn at life,
begins to blink, rubs eyes,
gradually picks up impressions
from the womb-cave, the pupils
contract, expand.
Let there be light.
The first thing the child senses when it leaves the cave,
when inside becomes outside,
when it comes out from its safe place,
when outside becomes a different kind of inside,
is light.
Head, shoulders, body, limbs are released,
hands enfold the child, lift it
into the world,
at a navel cord’s length from the mother it is itself,
already loved,
the child opens its eyes,
sees light, draws breath, tries to focus,
nine months’ eternal darkness replaced by light,
new sky, new earth, a force vibrates in the soul.
*
The borders between us
My sight can’t be perceived by someone else’s eyes,
no one else has my eyes to see with,
just as I can’t see with someone else’s eyes,
only with my own gaze.
We can see each other, but never
with each other’s eyes,
we can close our eyes to each other,
but only by closing our own eyes,
I can’t possibly close your eyes to me
and vice versa.
I can’t see what you see, and you
can’t see what I see,
as if my blind spot won’t let me see
exactly what you see, and your blind spot
prevents you from viewing what I see.
We’ve seen the film, we say, but each with our own eyes,
for have we seen the same one,
we sometimes ask each another,
when we discuss the film on the way home from the cinema,
you have fastened on one thing, I on another,
the differences are glaring to each of us,
there is much that we both avoid,
so the truth belongs neither to you nor to me.
I would just like to see in a flash what you see,
get another image of the world,
we are a couple, but are not at home
in each other’s way of seeing and experiencing,
don’t come close to each other with our version of the seen,
yet sometimes you can look at me
with a piercing gaze,
as if you know me better than I do,
one of those moments when reality touches me most strongly.
*
from THE SOUND OF CLOUDS (2020)
Rain
It has rained while we slept,
dribbled, drizzled, trickled,
but we didn’t hear it.
The rain has already subsided,
notice it only as smell
now we’re awake,
spot-rain, drum-rain, torrent-rain
drop-beats in shifting volume,
a shower has passed over the house,
danced its way obliquely through the air.
Perhaps the drops on leaves and roofs put
their seeding traces of sound into a dream,
a vague memory remains
of going out into the garden for a sodden rose
from a raw-scented sea of them.
The sounds of rain like beating wings are gone,
there is only the smell of the rain still
hanging in trees and grass or seeping up
from the saturated soil.
We hear it dripping softly,
dripping from roofs and gutters, trees and leaves,
a notation of drops.
We listen to the water’s language,
to water that sluices out,
streams, gurgles, slows.
The water lives, has its own kind of memory,
the sea remembers that it once
was a drop.
The river remembers its origin
as a spring.
We listen to water in motion,
to the beck, to the brook, to the sound of the sea
and the draw of the tide,
to the dust-rain, stab-rain, slap-rain,
when the drops strike
lakes, leaves, grass,
the bare earth.
The sound of the rain like wingbeats is gone,
it’s with your ears it’s heard,
it’s with my ears it’s heard.
notes of midsummer,
when the cherry’s juice
has settled in the song of the bird.
*
Speak softly
Let the clouds settle in you,
keep your voice down in the room
where the dying person is,
speak softly to the dying.
The light is shut inside the night,
the night shut inside the light,
peaceful, the mind is awake,
speak softly to the one who has given you life,
or the one who has given you reason
to live your life.
Don’t say anything the dying person
should not hear, the sounds
are always all around,
hearing is the last sense
to disappear, it is not lost until
the moment that we die.
What we see
is not everything,
there is more to hear.
*
from THE TOUCH OF SKIN (2022)
Favourite word
Skin
is the best word I know,
you say,
you kiss my neck, kiss
the hollow of my throat, regardless of age, it’s my favourite word,
you kiss me again and, should I have forgotten it,
I am my body, when I feel your lips
against my skin.
Skin, you say, it sounds exactly like the skin feels,
you kiss my breast, my erect nipple,
while something greater touches us,
as if we were trees,
at the moment the wind caresses the leaves,
the beginning around us
and deep inside us,
the joy.
*
Round the table
Put hand on grips and handles,
that also others every day
takes hold of, open cupboards,
retrieve tableware, set the table,
reinvent ourselves,
touch the cutlery, the glasses,
the plates a member of the family
all her adult life has touched, put
hand on the pepper mill,
on the little bowl of salt,
crushed in the mortar,
sit together at the table on chairs
we will soon have worn out, pour
for each other, movements
intertwine, branch out again,
in a sensory journey send
dishes and bowls around,
follow a path,
as when a black hole in the Milky Way
pulls stars around
in a fine pattern,
a rosette-like structure,
dishes and bowls we’ve all had in our hands,
for generations have carried
before we send them on,
share the food, share the day, our solar system,
share what has happened to us, things
we sometimes do with our thoughts
somewhere quite different, at other times
with great presence because
one day we are simply present at the table
like the presence of absence,
when only others
use the plates, the cutlery, the dishes and the bowls.
*
The weight of a life
Together with all others
everyone is
the only one, equipped with
our own mouth, nose, eyes, ears, skin,
a world of senses,
so we can sense the world.
It is not possible to sense
through others,
a distance is given.
Earth, light,
there is a table with gifts,
no one
must be outside.
Together with all others
everyone is
referred to our own sensations
to survive, not be hurt.
Not everyone is equipped
with all the senses,
instead, the other senses come into play.
Everyone
Is equipped with senses
so that we may feel
we are not robots.
Everyone
is equipped with senses
so that none of us shall doubt
our own existence.
Everyone
is equipped with senses
so we can navigate
in chaos, go with heart first.
Everyone
is equipped with doors that stand open
so that what is out can get in,
and we can direct our attention out.
Everyone
is equipped with senses
that can change everything
when the brain begins to interpret.
Everyone
is equipped with senses,
not only to be a witness,
but also be moved ourselves.
Everyone is equipped with senses
so we can feel
the weight of life.
Everyone
can experience the passage
from one sphere to another
by touching and being touched
find peace in the soul.
Together with all others
you and I are
referred to our own sensations
to feel what it means
to love and lose, to be in the world.
Contents List
THE SIGHT OF LIGHT (2018)
I The darkness dreams the sun out
19 Birth light
20 Bonfire
21 From the bedrock
22 Tokyo by night
24 Desire is born night after night
25 The eyes, the planets of the skull
28 The katsura tree
II Burning point
31 Shoals
32 Narcisa grows keen on technology
34 Expectations
36 Burning glass
37 Feng Shui
38 The other side
40 Swallows
III Mirror
42 The nightdress
43 Mirror image
45 Bread and circuses
47 My sister with a halo
49 The camera’s caress
IV Ordeal by fire
53 Fiery sword
54 Icarus
57 The fire is mother to the ash
59 Forest fires
60 Flight
V Life is a drama
63 Jacques-Louis David: The Death of Marat
66 Pablo Picasso: Guernica
68 Frida Kahlo: The Wounded Deer
70 Gerhard Richter: Five Doors
73 Anselm Kiefer: Starfall
VI Inspection 77 Arctic wilderness
78 The bull’s gaze
80 Angry composer
81 School for architects
82 The eye of the Cyclops
84 The borders between us
86 Sightseeing spot
VII The shadow of a dream 89 Perpetual state of emergency
90 Night-blind
92 Librarian in grey weather
94 Picture stream
96 My view reduced
97 The inner cinema
99 Blind trust
VIII Transparency
103 Aura
104 From Barents’ final voyage
106 Prelude to coupling
107 Veil
108 The rainbow
IX The soul in the eye 110 Carpe diem
111 Your gaze meets mine
113 Spark of life
114 Embrace
116 Shone through
117 To make women and men shine
118 Passage, light
*
THE SOUND OF CLOUDS (2020)
I Prelude. The sounds are simply here
123 Hear with eye and heart
124 Clouds don’t stop
125 Danish daily sounds
128 The conch shell
130 The sense of hearing never switches off
II Acoustic alphabet
134 Harmony
135 The sound of the name
137 Newborn language
139 We are children, we shout
141 Rain
143 Many-stringed instrument
145 Listening inward
III The pain threshold of eardrums
149 Thunderclap
150 The Devil’s interval
152 The street’s epicentre
154 It could be gunfire
156 Beethoven maltreated
IV Resonance rooms
158 Absence of sound
159 Tinnitus
161 Seasons intercepted
163 Do I hear the radio?
165 Song for a foetus
V Nobody owns the clouds
169 Nobody owns the clouds. For Glenn Gould
171 Star-pulse. For Patti Smith
173 O Superwoman. For Laurie Anderson
175 Soul on a journey. For Brian Eno
177 ‘Simple Song Number 3’. For Sumi Jo
VI Redevelopments
180 Bees in Linden
181 Gong
183 Saunte Number 17
185 The sewing-machine
187 The bang before it comes
VII Out of a mouth
190 No one has seen God
191 Edvard Munch: The Scream
192 Your voice
194 My voice
197 The deaf seamstress
199 Like two people present
201 Authentic voice?
203 Hephaestus forges
205 From the realm of the dead
VIII Sound pictures
209 The room drawn
210 Through the open window
212 The bells of City Hall
214 Stillness before the hurricane
217 Unwanted sounds
218 Centre
219 The deer and I
IX Postlude. Freedom exists
223 The left hand’s road to freedom
224 Clouds touch me
226 White noise
228 Van Gogh’s ear
233 Speak softly
234 Pauses
235 The stillness is coming
*
THE TOUCH OF SKIN (2022)
I Yearning sits beneath the skin 240 Favourite word
241 Have only my body
243 Butterfly wings
245 My skin my limit
248 Embrace
II Confrontation with elements 250 The wind loves me
251 The water transforms
253 Fire and song
255 Earth poem
257 The cannula through the skin
III The hands 260 My mother’s blind cousin
261 In my pocket
263 Bread
265 The rose I hold
267 Bodily visitation
269 Touching decay
271 Massage
IV Fight 275 Fight club
276 Local anaesthetic
277 Under the skin behind the ribs
279 Battles
280 Scars
281 My knee
283 The Chernobyl wind
V Five materials. A catalogue of touch 286 Trees, people
287 The marble ball
289 The hand finds its way to the glass
291 The lady holds the unicorn’s horn. A gobelin
293 Nefertiti. A plaster bust
VI Presence 297 The star place
298 The fingers meet the world
300 Child and ladybird
302 The feet like sand
304 The enigma of the flesh
306 Capsized robin
307 Today I got the explanation
309 The body feels the liquids leave it
311 Round the table
VII Absence 314 Embraces, eternity
315 In constant reconstruction of a dance
317 The bat effect
321 The hand-shy child
322 Gentle whispering
VIII Caress 326 Your hand and mine
327 With a creature in his arms
328 The bench in Gudhjem
328 Your face
331 You are a sky
332 Crazy and in love
334 The horizon
IX The solar system of hope 336 The solar system of hope
337 My son has built a fire
338 A landscape awakes in me
339 We move the night
343 The weight of a life
*
NOTES 349 The Sight of Light
350 The Sound of Clouds
351 The Touch of Skin