Green Bridges

Rachel is native to this place that doesn’t exist. Let’s explore, she yells and bikes off, onto a street named Illusion. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, a dim moonless night above us. Neon-coloured lasers lighten up the sky. Maybe it is her job, in which she finds formulae, which don’t have any practical

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Creature in a Cage

I have been waiting for six minutes, says the clock, its heart-shaped clock-hand passing by the black numbers way too slow. Very clearly I can feel the fluttering and juddering near my left heart-wing. I smoke in front of a station, which never sleeps, bought new tobacco already. The building reminds me of Leonardo da

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The Cake Protocol

1 I remember my grandmother in details. A warm, saturated light falling in broad streams through her milky bathroom window,. The silhouettes of trees, dust particles floating through the room. The kitchen door left ajar, just a bit, so I could slip in. The once white, now greyish woolen carpet bent up in one corner.

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you caught me (wings and owls)

ne me quitte pas, Pavlov’s daughter says a saint but only if she gets her socks on right some say she’s a bitch because she takes you home (but without the gas mask) her breath enchants you you caught me, you say outright fallen under her spell a prince in a fairy-tale castle with fairy

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rather lovely thing

since you, my dear like and idea lie next to me in stardust sea in 20.000 days on earth hence everything’s collapsing here since you, my heart in time and space and grey and blue are being spread all stars get lost all day and night painting my sleep with colors bright (scarlet for you

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take this longing

grasp me with Hungarian lanterns and photographs and gloss rest with me in my rectangular reasoning prerequisite my mouth is a lock on the dew of your thigh you long me for you on empty pages in a scrapbook binding you I have always touched your perfect body with my mind you elude those who

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liebesschrieb

dein liebesschrieb verästeltes papier in meiner herztasche // your writ of love branching paper in my heart pouch *** auszug aus: harlots im herzen, © marianne jungmaier,2014 // footage: © paolo ceric, sans title, 2012 (no sound) seen at solar do barao, curitiba, 2014

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Winter Solstice

I open my eyes. The room in semi-darkness, like a cave under the roof slope, which is covered by dark wooden panels. Patches of snow on the window. They dim the light. I can hear Jacob’s breath. Our sleeping berth is a mattress on the floor, in a foreign house. As I undress I unfurl

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Forest Noises

Three joints for him, three for me. For both of us, for him and me, he filled long white papers this morning. Rolled them and put them in a slender metal box. We go to the mountains, have spare time, spend it together. I spare myself of cutting vegetables, cooking spaetzle, bottling sorbet, sweeping the

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Summer Flights

It takes a while until the brake applies. A tiny squeaking. Hot wind grazing my cheek. Smells of tar, exhaust fumes and garbage hover above the three-lane roundabout. I turn and plunge in. Simon navigates between the cars. Turns round, shouts, l’opéra, behind you. He disappears between metal, the sound of horns, buzzing. I stop,

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