Identify the principles and pull on the guide rope, map out my face. Be my best friend, volans, come back into the world, just today.
Take a breath, once, twice, spread your wings. Beauty-speech, lip-dance. The stone is always true but the cherry lies,
let us laugh on the count of three. Mockery burns the tongue, sound waves, thousands, thundering, what burns in the cells if not sound?
Speech-mothering with father-syllables, they lured you into strange ships and tore out your wings. White fingertips, wide hands
(African sailfin flyingfish)
We could we wait we flirtle we would like we fearle we stumble we don’t hear we huddle we doubtle we dig we gulp down we
thinkle we scream we hit we vent we get muddled we change noticeably we count we would but we livele after all or well
From Wasserbuch (Waterbook), Suhrkamp, 2011.