the idea of death

night black stars

The night is dark
the soul is charred
its landscape tarred
trees bone black
black serpents paved till horizon –
the sad spectacle of thoughts
receding unhurriedly
as stars into nothing
white lions into oblivion;
I observe scattered teeth
engulfed in black blood –
that is the night sky.
Everything turns mysterious,
my hand the lonely shade
the ultimate despair;
merging irrevocably
with the dead of night.



Nihilistic Poetry

new lands

Sphinx in Aarhus

           There are things
best left unsaid
lest the great sphinx
of the open mystery
at my foolishness
she knows
ultimately, life
is like the open sky
and words
are clouds I hold on to
to break my

Modern Poetry