Poems: Messages in bottles
Elevens: Forgotten things recollected in elevens—11, 22, 33...
Sacred Trespasses: Contributions to the literary pages at Sacred Trespasses


You do not need to catch yourself to me
You do not have to leave anything you need not
Nor take yourself to ally to a confessor

In a wave of sense came substance

You do not need to convert
Perception which is immediate before immediate
Inexplicable before inexplicable
You do not have to compel my hand
To your eyes for conservation of reason, 
Avowal of motion

In a wave of silence came sense

I have taken everything out of my ears
Unpacked the wick of pour louse change
As pleasing and anxious as undiscovered bells
And withheld games as dire in delight as that other
Pervert to the good,
Turned about face

Interned in the machine, i.e. intermediary in

Once more through the thick grey hollow

Anatomy of a Sentence: Paul Celan