Marion Poschmann Poems

it was grey was exactly like back then
the unchanged spaces separating
off voices inner restlessness smoke
from the roofs like on the run
...

you have counted the metallic
age-rings on the fruit conserves,
every top-side rotating stasis
like flickering ventilators -
...

baroque this desire to overflow,
twitching eyelids, twitching legs,
thickly sugar-encrusted sleep, sweet burden
...

look at this attached place. what do you make of it?

negation of landscape.
plants that have no business existing. a cable-like
plant connecting us to the green lung:
...

a triangle of energy, colourless and flat when seen
from the air, spread out across the ground. contrasting
with it alarmingly blue attributes of labour, the open air sky,
the overalls, the lakes to come (the biggest in Europe).
...

Pop-up park: there were discounts on flowers,
planted with metal combines, planted with
a Lenin of petunias, with a Stalin of pansies,
...

The simple branch and its adjectives: swaying,
gently-moving, densely-leafed, long-stretched-out.
Beneath the branch couples walking and reading poems
...

Children sloshing, tea in cups, in their parents' hands.
Underhandedly the love of the fatherland grows cold, exercises the
art of guardianship, power over words, conversations with the dead. Prescribes
...

That park enclosed in resin.
Soap bubbles and sludge in the lungs. Sepia air
around enclosures, memory, moon bear, dancing bear.
...

Forest frothing up. Again and again
forest frothing up, dissipating. Sitting on park benches,
bathing in pale ideas of evening. Concentrating
on contemplating clouds, the layers of beauty
...