The air You slit

A fire burning

feeding on black threads

Sown into eyelids

of all the corners

Consuming time

It is to breathe 
the slit air

you cut with 
your hand

through a window

To look for words

and finding them elsewhere

elucidating in the fire pit


when not

a void appear



like a wildfire

Burning ends

but it does not end

it is time

What is time to a fire?

Someone once said

"Grief suits you"

Then thankful

for Your gift

to dress me up

I wear you

like a jewel

with pride

Related Blogposts

Hello! So much capitalism. xoxo, The anti-capitalism motherf**ker

We are thrilled to announce that National Gallery of Denmark has invited us to host one of their popular SMK Fridays. During this special evening we will open cracks to the Sensuous Society and evoke peepholes into more sensuous and poetic modes of being. All to give the guests a small taste of our distinct performance methods and universe exploring a…