unknown objects in the sink

What in the pink 

what in my drink, 

what in my kitchen sink

sank, 

who drank 

drunken squirrels and

froggies

of the frozen forest!

dozens of thousands of

trousers

have bouncers and won’t

let you in

until wed

nes day

but you won’t see it

lookin’ straight at it

if it’s in the corner of your eye

like any disturbance

all you can do is

duck and cover

trying to be realistic

She had so many geese

that she would hide her sorrows inside pillows

made of geese feathers

if she was sad,

but she wasn’t, 

and she bought ticket to a ship

to sail to Paraguay

to hunt more geese by the sea

 - but there’s no sea in Paraguay,

her friend said, and she said,

you’re spoiling my dreams,

and she became really sad, 
and she tore the pillows, 
and the feathers flew away, 

and they had to carry her

to the cemetery for a semester,

and to loose weight, and more hair,

and to die, eventually   .

And the rains started to fall

for months, as if to sympathize her loss of hair

which was golden by the way,  

or to synchronize the story

or symbolize something bigger,

or apologize on behalf of her unthoughtful friend,  

or to help the birch grow,

to produce birch sugar to give her comfort,

or more shares to the shareholders of the birch sugar company,

and the sea grew

until it was in Paraguay. 

But the ticket to the ship, they said,

was already expired.

the stupid elephant

my stupidity is the

biggest elephant

whom I ever tried to force

inside pink ballet dress, or

across the bridge of emotions

without swearing

that this would be the last time

but I tried

after dark this

came out that she

used to eat straight from freezer

before they’d find her

chewing swallowing choking

for she had no other ambitions

or hope for a better future

than the one of a circus elephant

but to have her back from the bridge,

or to have one small thing undone

is more difficult than

walking one hundred new elephants

across the bridge,

and this is why we love to start

everything all over again

important things in life

in the green land

not far from heaven and hell

where bananas grow in the trees near the mountains which seem blue after rain

where the parrots can almost speak, if spoken to,

where they still feed the poets without poisoning them with work life reformers who want them to shovel the shit to get bread to learn realities of life,

and they keep trained monkeys

to get more tourists

to sell them cheap copy watches

they met,

and later the man said,

let’s just forget about it

and they cancelled the wedding

and the semi-detached house with exclusive design furniture

and the white Mercedes

and three children and some dogs and cats and the fish,

and the boring Sunday afternoons walking in the park,

and the boring never ending rows about

who’s turn to walk the dog,

the line,

the rope

and through the eye of the needle

in the endless conversations about who sacrificed more,

like two small boys arguing about who won in the chess game last week,

and the woman thought about it for twenty years and said,

yeah, let’s cancel all right

and since then,

poets were never fed

without poisoning them with work life performers

who want them to shovel shit, to learn that what comes out of the bottom

is more important than what comes from the mouth.

lying time machine

back to the present from the passed,

time machine came and announced,

with calmness in his metal voice:

my parents never met of there own choice

and I was never born,

and didn’t learn to read or write

or eat, or bite the bones

of other animals, or telephones or wires,

or to set up fires in the forests,

or chew, or sew the hemline of the outskirts

of the town nearby to make him look more

pretty to your eye.

so, I had to say good bye to dear parents,

according to the wicked time machine

which was launched by someone

who just wanted to see people separate

the flesh from bone.

it made me think that any beauty could

just be a mask of something better yet,

after revelation of the mother bones

and no human could be better than another

and another one is always better than the other.

soap factory

after the work

at the soap factory,

they washed my brains

but they didn’t iron

so here I think again

so the thinking machine comes to shrink

your skull,

but they didn’t think

that it grew back

I’m laughing on the rolling floor about it

our sun goes down on it

I hover my life on it

I follow the process

from the rear window

of her home town traffic

on my map

to get some poems you should walk

alltheway through madness and back:

come away from the crowds from the stations

where the elephants elbow

through the bottoms and up

mouth fish traffic

Pacific Ocean is an ocean

with a lot of fish traffic

people can watch through the ship windows

and wish,

jelly fish eaten by the mouth fish

gotten tired of the repetition of the situations

she emerged in another way

on another day:

fish was born out of wish substance

I never understood a sword of what he said

so they tried to link us through the heavens by force

so it didn’t work

now that’s how to raise pagans

everyone is famous

i prospered i

soothed

i was triangle-like,

thoroughly bitten porcelain- rosepot

my best blossom was just before the train stopped,

at the wrong station

everyone is famous in his own car where nobody can hear

I spoke history for two weeks

before him, then I forgot to play the instrument

in your ear

protruding an insect-woven nest, so you didn’t hear

I wore a vest

I swore

it’d be best before

their hands,

they clenched into fists and said they’d whistle on my behalf,

but the whiskey jar kept quiet

about the comfort of the fake gold around 

her reckless neck

iho on ihmisen reuna

Vain sementtiä sielussaan saa kirjoittaa,

ne sanoivat, ja hän meni ja otti sementin

ja alkoi kirjoittaa –

kirjoituksesta sai kuitin,

ja hänellä oli vain yksi kuitti,

ja sitä ne repivät joka asemalla!

Ja niin hän meni kouluun

niin kuin muutkin,

vaikka osasi jo.

Mutta kirjaimet olivat liian suuria,

olisi pitänyt nähdä vaivaa.

Ja sillä aikaa kun hän ei ollut oma itsensä

hän puhalteli saippuakuplia,

ja joku muu oli hän.

Mitä kevyempi saippuakupla,

sitä karkeampi sementti –

miten hän rakasti sementin karkeutta!

mihin hänen saippuakuplansa tapasivat hajota.

Vain öisin voi huomata

että iho on ihmisen reuna,

niin kuin saippua on kuplan reuna,

ja valo voi osua rakastavaisiin:

ei silti aina;

kerrankin eräs nainen

heräsi ilman häkkiä.

Nainen kantoi sateenkaarta vuosia käsilaukussa ja se oli

helvetin painava

runaway

1.

hardly had she been collected

from the street, from the trash, from the unexpected

that she’d been looking for

when she was already left on her own

hardly ever had she been collected

in one life, or another, as a matter

2.

and now, as a rarity, or oddity

depending of impression,

in something like collection

under magnifying glass,

an eye

which seems to reach quite everywhere,

splitting its conclusions about everything

biting, chewing, swallowing and vomiting it out again

breathing, eating, thinking it before you did,

selling you to highest bid.

so that she would try to turn back home,

she thought,

and kept on running.