Buna Café

I don't feel like writing.

The empty space on my belly
has expanded until filling everything.

Time tables change,
cigarettes stink in my breath,
I feel tired and slow,

Fundamentals

There is a body clutching on my soul.

Everybody can see it hanging,
everybody refers to it as me,
but that's not how it feels.

Black Magic

She bounced rhythmically her head up and down
like one of those old toys found in cheap hotels
and Chinese food stands.

If you looked at her long neck nodding at someone else,
you would notice the quite exaggerated fashion
in which she did it.

Café Saara

They have grilled bread with cheese au gratin,
salad, tomatoes, mozzarella, boiled eggs,
nice suits and fresh orange juice.

I sit in front of an empty coffee mug
and a glass of water.

Tervasoihtu

It's Autumn and I sit and write poems
whose dullness makes me sink into my miseries.

Sometimes it has worked, now it doesn't.

It's Autumn, my hands feel cold,
where are the palm trees? where's my mum?
I should write more autobiographic poems,
they are my best, I think,
because I'm so great

Preparing Lessons

I stare into space,
I drank my coffee too quick
but I sit still and stare into space,

Subtitles

I hear them fight.

I haven't yet figured out
if they are next door's, upstairs' or downstairs',
only that they fight a lot nowadays.

I mute a TV I'm not really watching, and,

It's Snowing in Spring

I came to learn to accept the beauty
and the inaccessibility of snow flakes.

Before, it pained me not being able to touch
the amazing structures they form,
to caress its edges, its beautiful roundness,
to watch from very close the wonderful way they shine.

But for some time now,

The Chalice

I shall drink today and wash my whole self with the dark pulp
that came from putting together all my mistakes and regrets,
my foolishness and iniquities, past and yet to come,