Nora-Eugenie Gomringer Biography

The calf will die in the night
I sleep outside in the byre
Here, your soup's in the pot
Get into bed now, we're up early tomorrow
...

-for the rain is young and kicks the benches with feet of water-
on heavy, misty days, days like this in fact,
the garden is a refuge of desire,
of snails and worms,
...

Mother was always
warning me

With you I'm pulling
...

Overnight
You've oxidised
Next to me
...

Without William James
He wouldn't be pragmatic
He sits himself down
...