The Quarks of Avignon

While I’m sitting in my study room the television is on in the living room. It’s a science program from Danish television talking about the particle accelerator i CERN. I get curious and go in to watch a couple of minutes. I really don’t know anything about this and I start speculating in my own strange way.

What is really going on in the particle accelerator in CERN?

It looks like hieroglyphs, strange metaphors and pictograms made by Picasso.

Alphabetic combinations is dripping from gloomy dendrite trees in my brain.

Electrical signals reach the neurons fromĀ  the crushed knee.

Like the alphabet this simplicity is got so many combinations.

A Chinese neurologist said a couple of years ago

that Shostakovich got a spile from a granate in his brain

during the second world war.

After this he heard music

every time he turned his head sideways.

His mind was full of melodies,

new ones every time.


Summer Winds on Lake Victoria

One summer I was listening to the radio while reading old poems and suddenly the time when I started talking as a toddler, the beginning of langauges in human history and the poem connected in some strange way

The summer wind blows through my window

while I’m reading old notebooks.

The yellow curtains moving

creating light and shadows on the floor,

on the page with an old poem

about loosing a balloon in the wind.

Early memories;

remembering the dust in the light

from the kitchen window.

My first words were pure sounds

like dustglittersongs.

The radio is on

and a professor says that

languages started in the area

around Lake Victoria.

While I read the poem

I can seeĀ  waves on the lake.

They are disappearing

like chalk on a professor’s blackboard

when he is erasing the interpretation

of a poem of a dead poet.