pi & anne

It looks as if I’m lying in the bathroom ceiling, the tap, the board placed on the side edges of the bathtub, in pink filter glass water. This is my body. I rest both hands on my belly, of course. In the warm water

lifting and sinking and lifting the physics of mass attraction . . .

under the cupola
I tell you
that I’d love
if they just had benches
in circles

You had three lives inside you and given birth to two. — We are never asked when, where and into what we are born and grow up. No one chooses. No one is determined by fate. Because this is a self-delusion.

The plaster on the wall, peach-coloured, forms dents and wants to peel. Where the skin escapes the water, it is cold.

We don’t have a choice, do we? — No one has ever had one. — What do we do with this knowledge? — I don’t know what you do, I only know what I do.

What if we do everything wrong? — Everything is a big word, it doesn’t change the fact that I strive to be a good person, here and now.

What if humanity destroys itself? — That can happen. Does that release us from our responsibility?

purple bed sheets
when the lights are off
I know we know
however strained
it stains

we chew
the words
the end

The water has run out. The bathtub is actually white and has lots of chipped paint. I am no longer in the room. I take up the room.

oranges
were easier
to peel
in a memory
the science of fiction

The rabbits are hungry. — Yes. I will feed them now. Does it matter that you’re still working on your art projects? — For whom? — For the world. — Maybe not. — Then why are you doing it? — Because I need it, and maybe a few other people need me to. Who knows. That’s enough.

A flock of sparrows outside. Construction noise. The postman hasn’t arrived yet.

daytodaytomorrow

What does “being a good person” mean? What can we DO?

We have been
Somehow
In a dream

With eyes,
The ones we have,
That says it all,

Across the gap
We turn away from
Time, this space

In universally
Destructive
Arms.