Große Fuge (II)


The skin is my contact surface

Thought is a winding movement
within a rehearsed universe

Mute, language rises
out of the shifting light
over spruce, maple & ebony

At bedtime, the child tests the world
with H. C. Andersen & Lewis Carroll

The lineages speak unintelligese
along the shafts of the tongue

The sabres whistle over the kitchen tables
when the preambles of marriage are tried

I lie blooming in the midst of the light

The cat flies Chagall
as the darkness empties its pitcher
over the horizon

The notebooks’ class action grates & gnaws
at integrity

A string quartet, hard of hearing, steps unexpectedly past
on the signs of the times




Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 2 times
Written on 2026-04-04 at 10:19

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