I place my sunglasses carefully, next to the ashtray, as I have a gift for loosing sunglasses. Especially when the sun goes down. Yet she is still a gleaming light between the wooden beams of the swing. It’s 4.04. I am waiting at a green wooden table. Suitcase and handbag. My escort speaks English with
If I lived here, I could tell myself: Perpetual building lot in front of the Misirlou. I look out of the window, at the buildings, read: Tausendschön, Glaube und Wahrheit, Liebling, Zu mir oder zu dir. I look into a last warm light. The sun is fading behind the half naked trees. And fabulous roman
I’d rather sleep with ghosts on quiet mornings than being the duchess the red duchess touches on quiet mornings I took a walk everything that has ever been obscured I didn’t come back leaf canopy look after me red desire on quiet mornings betray your face betray the duchess now everything that has ever been
a word is a wing of a butterfly that beats that soars up in cloud pulp and like cling film lies atop the glacier’s blue a word is a glacierblue in cloud pulp making clear what is ambiguous a wing of a butterly in cling film that flies a cling film protects a word which
© Marianne Jungmaier, Venice 2013 *** With the following background music:
They say, meeting your childhood heroes disentchants you. This glorious image you had will vanish. You will realize that your hero is just a human being like everyone else. So it’s better not to meet them when you grow up. Thank God I didn’t lose my ability to see the world as a magical place.
wir sehen film projections in schwarz und weiß, ein Dream of Life und horses, horses, horses in GLORIA and Jesus died for somebody’s sins // but not mine wir trinken Rotwein, Viertelweise kleben fest an altem Ranz commend into the wind // wir trinken in fremden Küchen beneath the southern cross es ist drei Uhr
When I quit my flat, it had just turned October. Summers’ days were fading, mornings and evenings slowly getting nippier and grey clouds covering the sky oftentimes. I was sitting in front of the window, watching planes of the nearby airport taking off, while I filled boxes with bits and bobs. Darkness started to creep
I carry my wrathroots firm in my stomach anxietyflowers sprout from my neck tie the lovebeech her leaves have shrivelled long this year I am mis-sensed dis-felt ivy-despair has obscured my sight my pleasure-grass tastes short and sallow rose-sorrow thornes in my heart and the melancholia-marguerites blossom early this year they’re still in flower between
I admit it. I am highly prone to addictive behaviour. Especially when it comes to entertainment. When I have found a book or TV series that I like, I have to read/see all of it, end-to-end. I am probably a bit of a nerd, too. The kind of nerd that read The Lord of the