~ manuscripts never burn, quills do ~

when your hair becomes heavy with tears

soaked and straightened to the ground

you contemplate the gravity

drinking tears from his navel

- this was the course of yesterday, steps on my return to feeling. today is the huge full moon, high above the rooftops of oslo, antennas, i watch it. i sing about the sun and know somewhere on earth it is true, above the grey sky. it's beautifully dark blue here so - still singing - i wonder:

if the full moon makes people act crazy

what does it do with madmen

because i feel a strange peace

the only thing i cannot figure is
if it's the one of a seventy-year-old
or
the one of a newborn