Poems by- Poul Lynggaard Damgaard
Again, the moment is forever
The vase is set on the table not for us to topple over. Connections
are systematized. Soon the moment will come. A view
is dropped. There is no more to be shown at the gate.
I delight in the variability of the present. Around the same circles
in order to grow as a greeting. I´m not shards, but rough as the ground.
You point to the bars of the window,
as if it is something the house
cannot vouch for.
In something as desirable
as a trace. Only a movement is left behind.
We look at each other like playful children.
Doors speak with the wind.
I’m encircled by language.
Clouds without silence.
We drift in the sky.
Run for life
The bus stops. A coat is tossed between seats.
The cooling system is overheated.
Everyone gets out into the landscape,
and walks around towards the back of the bus,
where the driver opens the engine room.
He opens up a historical concept
and the idea of an unassimilated human being.
We are some passengers
who gather close around the engine room.
I sense the notch. The grip of the universe.
It is moving in one direction. Motives claim our actions.
Inner path connections where nothing is. We wear symbols
on the outside of what we no longer recognize.
We had to do something.
Absence without loss
There’s a voice in me I can’t drive forward
unless the sun is my body.
The vase does not exist,
and that’s why
you show me your cave painting.
Rough sketch in the rain before it became modern.
Tell yourself the situations,
and the place
The good image
you will find,
when we can’t find peace
in the wind by the sea.
I’m caught in everything that makes its way.
A slow development,
where each grain of sand has an impact.
We lean over the world,
as the fishing boat leans
towards the universe.
[Poul Lynggaard Damgaard, Denmark]