The Hügel-Bedded
The atmosphere
is a room
we cannot step out of
without grotesque costs
and monumental difficulties,
to a very limited extent
The atmosphere
is the growing bed in which we are grown
alongside roundworms, ticks & dragonflies
The atmosphere
is the terrarium
where we crawl about
in greedy thoughts, lofty philosophies
& household chores
The atmosphere
is our artificial respiration
in the breathlessly breathless & vast;
our incubator & respirator
...but it is also here we suffocate,
– presumptuous & obtuse,
home-blind & clamorous –
when truth is intrusive & hügel-bedded,
bokashi-cultivated & warm-composted,
while the chimneys stand like meerkats
& startled bitterns on the horizons
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Written on 2026-05-29 at 10:18
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