Travelling My Room

 

 

 

Grains of sand from Baltic tunes

 

crunch, carry pepper, salt and

 

coastal notes of seaweed into the room.

 

 

 

Scattered stone fragments from the Berlin Wall

 

crumble, mingle with pebbles

 

from the riverbanks of Nepal.

 

 

 

The Garden of Eden left its rotten apples

 

under Cezanne´s fruit bowl beside the bed.

 

A Polish paper on the desk is going yellow.

 

 

 

Over the stack of Rilke`s elegies

 

James Joyce smiles, a little thin-lipped.

 

The ceramic lamp made in Turkey sheds

 

 

 

a holey shadow on the curtain.

 

Near the door dirt from a Mittelholstein garden

 

clings to goat hairs from the Negev.

 

 

 

Dust balls travel through my room

 

and remind me of all the

 

wonders I have seen.