Here's my naked skin

Or was: in the mid-1990's I got a summer job at an export-import company's switchboard by the Helsinki-Vantaa airport. A very nice job, as it was, but I was burningly unhappy, increasingly unable to cope with my failure to integrate with the world. And art being the saving grace in my utter incapability to function. These three poems come from that summer:

 

(Office poetry, Part I)

A notion

As the moment comes,

words often don't

and what might have

been will now not ever

happen.

(Office poetry, Part II)

Meditating on 'An Independent Love Song'

If in any which way

I only could see

there then would not be

so much to say -

or write - or think,

just a natural way to be.

(Office poetry, Part III)

Even More Trivial

All is not ever said,

but we in this our bed

attempt other things

and without words

all in triumph is said.