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Visiting Inhabitant, Sisters Hope Home, Hedehusene, Denmark

Lacan said the desire of man is the desire of the Others. I always wonder what desire is actually calling from my own soul; What is the truth I am searching for my own heart; And what is the movement moves from my own body. Only when I became mindful…

I was born in your ancestors And I still live in your mind I thrive on curiosity And come alive between minds Without me the world as you know it wouldn’t exist The imaginary world The built world I built religion, politics, money I can build more I can build…

It is the year 2024 (anno domini), or the year 1740 (of the era of martyrs), or the year 2777 (by the count of the Caesar), or the year 231 (since the people stormed the Bastille). It is March, or Paremhat, or Einmánuður—the Lone Month—the last month of Winter.  …

I am excited and tense about this imminent departure. Living in a poetic and sensual society is how I would like to live in everyday life. These are the foundations on which I try to build my community and my artistic and human practice. I wonder what happens in living…

I perform in your mind where do you begin to tell my end are you doing it for me what is beyond your mind and inside where do I exist and why do I do what I do how much do you create create me and you ?

I arrive. In the depth of an ocean they come closer their pearls spill on my face their neck covers me The smell I am reminded of air. I am a distortion of nature. I move around the solids. I look for cracks I sleep. …cracks to fill, but hard…

UNMAKING BEDS I USED TO SLEEP IN REMOVING THE SAFETY BLANKET LETTING AIR IN UNDER MY SKIN FORGETTING NIGHTMARES CREATING DREAMS MANIFESTING A NEW REALITY ?

… staying … with myself and with all of you   I can Be with ease And with so much more   … 8; …

Went to the sea last night, first act after landing, And came to the water’s edge (alone and without seeing, across the wide berth of the shore), stumbling upon it nearly with the strips of washed-up tang And felt the sting of very cold water swirling at my ankles and…

If I were to speak of my love, I would return to the sweet elderflower brushing my nose tip in the summer, and to kiss-stains of pollen If I were to speak — stop — listen : do you hear how the cold salt water beckons us to turn back,…