This fjord-
the right words
submerged
Even words
need to be selfmade-
Iceland
Cinder teeth
tear strips of wind
from the clouds
Stunking
steenbroken
vaporland
Boilwords
ash-seethed to
deaf steam
Volcano Tour-
my love is by far
the hottest
The grass
mowed the words
hayed
Flies
for lunch
Iceland
In mowed grass
the yeanling's dreams
of next year
Icegaled
kerfcutted
aeon stenes
Waking up
from translucent dreams-
midnight sun
Cloudscape
mirroring
landscape
Full moon-
nothing else is whole
in this landscape
Rain clouds-
the lake filled up
with silence
From under
a sea of clouds-
airling
glacier ice
floating past-
restyearn
On the lake
feathers floating-
a child's laugh
My eyes
inundated-
sea clouds
So serene
our boat trip back-
whale watching
The fog
on the glacier
gazeless
Lightfever
now again the north
nightjacks
The light
in my body
let go
Water
stonepiping
down
Dead straight-
how fearsome
this road
Sunlight-
colorborn
the fjord
Organ music
from the glacier church-
thus to melt
Farewell-
a boat
of stone
Nothing remains
in my binoculars-
this empty landscape
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