Hilma af Klint (II)
Something trembles in the room
Something is heard in the wall
Something overwinters
Something aches, to some degree
Something waits patiently in the airspace
Something turns in the night
The night revs up out on the motorway
Something shines over my face
Something whistles in my kneecaps,
filled with nectar
Someone travels across the waters, dry-shod
Someone else mutters in a cathedral, sea-soaked
The peal of the bells deepens in the cores of the inland lakes
Cortisone-swollen floats the Moon,
some two hundred thousand miles above Råneå
The Sun lashes out in blind fury,
caught in the angel stove,
knuckle by knuckle
The untroubled one puts a police hold on God
I take the second-hand value under my arm
A nerve jerks, the marble floors sing
Only time has the patience I need
A halo on the weather report
looks like something by Hilma af Klint
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Written on 2026-01-18 at 12:59
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