Scandinavellian
it drags on in skindergade/ old lullabies
and historic whispers/ all come together
it's night in the daytime/ and all
is let loose/ the cranes/ in frederiksberg
garden/ are jollypicking the quiet desperation
of a multitude of wheelchaired men
suddenly electrified by being subjected
to grace
water from boarded up kitchens
is instantly holified in the cup holders
two stories up/ in a house/ in another
part of town/ a silent prostitute
on creaking floorboards
returns to bed in amagerfälledvej
venetian blinds set with scotch tape
lightly adorns her persian rugs
in the universities/ students carry pillowcases
and heavy feathers/ into the dayful nighttime
haunted by vicissitudes of absent ghosts
in the city/ people stop inhabiting coffins
upscale graveyards are downscaled
into midscale real estate
kongens nytorv is up for grabs
but nobody knows
israels plads is given up
to a bilingual junkie
hc örsteds park is flooded by the city council
while the green grass/ of long forgotten
hunting grounds pushes through
sidewalks/ worn thin/ by the ambulance
of time
bicycles/ unknowingly/ jinglebelly in
the break of every dawn
in lustrous ouvertures/ the pavement
crack like glass/ at the feet
of the returning game
suddenly catapulted
into the highlights of contemporary obscurity
the fifth floors of nörrebro/ österbro
vesterbro/ frederiksberg/ valby/ vanlöse and
nordvest/ are no longer conquered
by her majestys regimented postal workers
they deliver their letters at home
to vary recipients/ sickened by this exaggerated
indulgence in correspondance/ and progress
and effort/ and the tiresome truth
that words carry on
from a dull microphone in griffenfeldtsgade
unplugged/ every syllable of every poem
from the beginning to the end
of the literary war/ is sung silently
as a hush
picked up only/ in a tower of prayer
discarded in a basement near mjölnerparken
and further out/ in klampenborg
in a heavily bejeweled tower of song/ that
bridges the precipice between two soggy mounds
it's bells hanging on the outside/ like tangents
for the deer and the rabbits
and the hedgehogs to cross and play on
the sparrows prepare their beaks
at blågårdsplads/ by rinsing them
in glimmering crescents of reappearing light
the seas manufature comforting whimpers
as the waters refract
their golden hibernation
the fish parade from nordhavn to sydhavn
to christianshavn/ like underwater unicorns
to umbillically undulate at kanin ø
so it is time again/ you realise
for knippelsbro to never/ and always
lower it's corrugated body into the
ultramarine slumber
of an innercity basin
for langebro to unite/ and reunite
the anemic brick houses of amager
with the anemic brick houses of the city
in a two-way blood transfusion
time/ you think/ to realise
that the bridges are not really burning
but are merely obscured
by the return of the sun
