Morten Søndergaard Poems

25/9
Ready? Each word is another word.
Each tongue another tongue. From now on face is 'snow'.
One is friends with one's toes. A sentence to get hold of.
...

more and more Danes are finding work
more and more Danes are now millionaires
more and more Danes are having children with
Dannebrog-shaped moles
...

24/9
The floors say: Hello, feet.
We go by names: counterpoint, breaking point, melting point.
Time runs its programme, it goes by, it passes, it stands
...

23/9
The night is here again.
Someone has let me in to the control tower and thrown the keys
away. Words request permission to land. Come in.
...

In my innermost thoughts
numbed hands are labouring
coffins into a vertical night,
a machine measures the strength of fear,
follows the white,
rising, light-giddy force
as it runs through the lungs' blood vessels
right into
the salty taste of the nightmare,
that is how I proceed
like a drunkard
with a mindless smile creasing my face,
it is
the small absences,
their contents
unfolded to sun-ray pain.

Translation: John Irons
...

I take a seat in the amazement chair,
it transforms itself into a catapult:
the milky way hisses on my tongue.
There is no possible way out,
...

The breathing of a great beast, don't be afraid any more
it's alright to come up close to me,
to warm me or give me something to eat,
...

You say
that bees die sleeping
but they crash to the ground
struck down by a
...

A herbarium in the sun,
a summer, at the bottom of the garden
and my grandma among the potatoes,
carrots and parsnips,
how old are you, grandma,
...

I awake in a land where the lovers have seized power. They have introduced laws decreeing that no one will ever again have to look away, and that orgasms need never come to an end.
...