wednesday at 16:15

Gustaf Munch-Petersen: Towards Jerusalem

the dove brush against

the secretary’s temple –

his engagement ring went down

on the table –:

I wish to

sense a falcon’s nest and hear

the youngsters cry out

in the flagstaff of life –

I wish, to

see moose swim

a wading mile through

moon-flood and swamp-sparkling

secrets –

I wish, to

grab a thin forest trail,

which reclines comfortably in the glitter of sunlight

on the choking-border

eel-slips and disappears

in a grass snake’s egg or

a mouse eye –

I wish, to

shoot an enemy

and to slap my |

wife with a

green salt-wave –

the dove flew away –

the secretary exclaimed

(Wednesday at 16.15):

c’est impossible

(what?)

all –

I hate hitler and

lenin

equally and liqueur

just as much as

watercolour –

c’est impossible

(what?)

to go on (like this)

the secretary whispers:

I

want TIME to

find

the indispensable!