Stefan Stjernberg.com

To be the blacksmith
and to forge
a circle of man
To follow my vertical way
to be
at the hour of endless marvels
of your radiant looks
while you are beside me
There is a you
in me
that persists
on its reflections

Without bowing
to my fragile form
to the wandering transparency
of the roads
To the reasons for living
I would not see
the imaginary other
The reflection of the ways
of moss and trees
my weight
taking possession of the earth
I hold your hand
and I watch
the public voice
the madness we have to bathe in
hiding in our heads

Like flies on our lips
will turn their heads
for understanding
Why go deep
wearing your cross on your nose
It is
a matter of life
my dear sir
To drop yourself quickly
On the surface
of a forced circumstance
accurately knowing
what you have sensed all day
I will not mind myself
in the doorway of my heart

To be a becoming
A subject
of your seductive dreams
A reflection
of its chambers
Of poetic myth
more silent
vague and pleasant
than you are
In the delirium
of your image
Every moment this herd
takes the wrong path
I only become its prisoner
And you
I will find you
so far away from me

A cradle at the end
of another voice
Reduced to a room
of broken mirrors
With my mouth upon your pillow
released in a change
to the forgotten splendour
of the sky
To become earth
without worry or suspicion
We will know this
or mourn alone
closed in a dream
to possess an illusion
With tears that no one else wants

Silence will pass
over the city
I will hear it
kindly with my lips
But hunted
with its imprint
I lived there
so far from me
and the balance
that i was born in the act
of its presence
behind my identity
with its seductive subject
and no one else
at the foot of my bed
Watching the darkness
whose curtains you were moving

These children arrive
dressed in your exile
to disappear
with a glance
on the eyelids’ colour
They arrive
flowered by autumn
at the heights
of whirling movements
And whoever they are
they are great forgetters
and keeps your heart alive

We are slowly poisoned
by our fate
And by flowers
in a rhythm of being
which are nothing
but flowers of hawthorn
Crying the plunder
of our human shade
As it appears for you
like in a wild breeze
so many of us has forgotten

There before me
under the layers of time
are those
who are drowned
At the surface
unable to do a thing
in the ruins of fascinations
and the delirium
of being
We imitate

The chamber of nothingness
of presence and absence
The only heart of things
An invisible ark
of cries and lights
that conspire
where brains are brewing
to consume every horizon
during a long day
That you close
by means of which I will greet you

A circuit
of no longer
Of all I have lived
Of daylight
covering the world
with time
and innocence
Beyond even myself
A landscape that matters little
to the art of reasoning
and dead ink

Into the void of roads
of harvests
and to the road that separates us
You walk
to the mechanical hand of thought
to the clotted sound
of decorative temptations
To the art of seeing
with wandering eyes
in the streets around you

Sensitive to the weight
of delicate manners
To the dawn of things
which i extend
To shatter words
into fragments of memory
as daylight clothe them
in my dreams

There will come others
in my deepest part
That awaits me
as if at home
Watching what I am
without end
looking at faces
Looking behind
those that wears them
Without turning
from my inside climate
when it meets the ground

I combine my poses
as a dream
like I am possessed
and displaced
in acts that alter forms
on your face
The closer I come to you

I does not matter to life
as it sings in its own words
Each day
I am its being, a servant
Of place trying
to breathe within my mind
I just fall into its arms
with tears that are not mine
clothed in mirrors
of those that wear them
Inside the movements of my heart

Like one in danger
i am cautious
To what?
The wind does not
keep her place
We inhale a different dawn
An instant’s width
of skin
Where an hour enters
through the same mirror
of lightness
as any another day

Days of temporal tides
with thousand coloured eyes
Old and weary
The unregulated sun
hears the Goat-foot
A Faun,
All before me
in my little room
Gathering power and purpose
when the day is done

Those cold hands
are manufactured
Of some departed us
From where
the unwisdom calls
the crowning
from below
From where the sun comes up
to speak to you
without shame

The drilling
into my entire me
Into the world
that wasn’t
In an aura of ice
with myself
As i am
the other,
obsolete life
I have to sink
to undo it
Where no one lives

I am a being
of changeful life
I wave at the sky
and bend the air
My breath this way
breaks out of my body
Off into this fabric
of burning trash
Messing up my clothes
and plunge me
into each day

Walls of my ruin
dissolves,
Into one light
alive in our blood
With great silhouettes
of a dark world
A bitter mask
full of apparitions
of my being there
You just listen
and you know
You feed the world out there

We enter this loneliness
for a crowd
In an outgrown anguish
From the branches
of a night
As all ancient hearts
passing,
through my windows burned
in its original darkness
With tears,
of mangled silver

This wild speed
i make
In the one drop
of nothingness
That passes by
this garden that lives
on its invisible wheels
consuming its own fruit
across the sky
I am,
the twilight i want
My nocturnal sugar
In the light of hidden flowers
enfolding my destiny
In every moment
as i uncloud my earthly duties

From all the pasts
in a suit of rays, a tree
Looking
in a certain way
known as the Mind
Old and wordless
low in the sky
Which faints away
to the edge
Of what remains
in the emptiness
and the geography
of our senses

Over my very own
circular else
She had my portrait
like an angry guest
of my tongue
As a passenger
She appear
in my body
As if it were normal
Throwing myths
of a dark twig
over my childhood
To my spaces of air
and darkness
As it salvage its source
And its breathings

For a moment I must dream
to the sound of my own
To the seeing passing through
that grains of laughter
Dressing us up like puppets
of sameness
We are volunteers
to the grinding stone
To a golden thread
Thin as a pencil stick
in the world laid bare
With just the right gesture
done this way
the impulse that lives here
Comes,
with the breath of the world
To see if we add up
to the pounding of the four corners

There is something settled
in the depths
Like a holy city
With objects
in your own reflection
There is an odor
of confused unities
encircling me
Its identical
of being a man
with clouds
that life fills
In eternal vessels
Now devoured
by abstract uncertainty
of silence
When it sees me coming

Observe the wise accidents
how much they do
beneath my seals
Of my life and soul
and my joys unnumbered
How far since I were born?
not the echoing
The mineral
and the solar bird
Which shakes the silence
of space
Of everything that exists
When i learn to harvest
myself from my shoulders

Summer breathes
a journey
as good as salt
to the gold center
we wait and watch
at the arms edge
as the earth
empties out
Life
in its own skin
Out of the midnight
we polish up the stars
and dance together

The first salt
for the lost
From off our faces
of that dead Time
Flying out
Out of the question
of No-man’s-land
Into the sun by the boat
with error or sin
you must live it alone
Till the cycle is run

In a breath’s space
I have found
leaves of gold
To the sound of rain
at the center
Whether we think good
Or evil
of the great clock
Words are arrows
to shoot the stars
of blind emotions
with a candle

From above
it comes pouring in
The edge
of straight lines
into thunder
Cluttered with
the body
and forgot desires
I am a point of beyond
On us both
And far more here with you
as i answer them

Where every sin flowers
The hour has come
from which one can see
human suffering
dissolve into one
This is the sanctuary
A kind of hell we breathe in
Where other souls may drift away
Looking for a scapegoat

The weighty world
The world as it can be
I can feel the tune
The signs to tell the way
All i have forgotten
just wait and watch
There is no safe place
Not here
You invade my calm,
It is up to my waist
Can’t you see I’m dreaming

The days flows on
over a wild solitude
And wraps the world
in a nameless way
Of silly pride
Bursting,
from an old sky
at the wheel
of the half moon
With its fifth hand
inside me
In contemplation