Excerpts from
MATTER
By Niels Lyngsø
like moss rhythm spreads my mouth is open the tongue dances
over the wall with seven veils fraying
along pilastres and gushing from lips
around volutess like organic tissue
mold-damp downy and gray white it goes
over the gutter's rot through prhases of leather and clay
further over tile contracts
into threads that twist
into balls and shrink
into pabbles that spread
in mottled moss mosaic
moss grows on stones earth a wild musical score
and rotting wood on
corpses excrements
and dead moss spider web
simmering fields damp
roads disappear I am
in certain circumstances everything else unequal
a landscape is contained in the box of a glance a cone
spreads unfolds like
a wild white rose withered hands over to the wind its leaves
that now crawl into a tunnel of boxes that open
twilight's egg dripping moon
stars are they nails holding darkness
are thety grain scattered
along sky's humus on which night
will they grow like wheat
Translated by Susanne Jorn
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