inventory of the world

travels? voices? (buzzing wires) – on landing you looked: heavenwards
   in flight perhaps you belonged to the inventory of the world, in the child's eyes.
at first the panorama lies there like a lizard, then suddenly it's whizzing past
   a gradual fading of intensities, dread shimmered in the glass
(bobeobi peli guby) you hummed. all we do anyway is animate strange interiors:
   gleaming between global vacancies (straw dolls all aflame). but
sucking on melancholy or crowning the kingfisher bird of the year
   – is one and the same. like in endless loops, overcast state of emergency:
totally fogged (an email) autumn burns into view – wafts out the cockpit door.

Hendrik Jackson
translated by Nicholas Grindell