A poem by Tomithy Holeapple
April 6, 2020

MY BOREOUT YOGA

i am neither a bird singing
a beautiful song to entertain you
nor a poet that stopped writing poetry
after Auschwitz i am just a normal human
being in quarantine because of that
panicked corona pandemic and i do
not speak english or german or chinese
but the language of my soul that is
silence at a very deep point of no return
in my shocking hollow bones since i
feel that i am made of total emptiness
without any fitting description to make
you understand how it feels when your
dissolved identity talks to you as a ghost
in a black business suit while you yourself
became identical with the air and the sun
and the most distant galaxies everything
seems to be somehow connected and
nothing seems to be somewhere beyond
universe i feel life here exactly here
as an absolute inside job right now
in my little room where i stay during
the infinite moment of days and weeks
and months of waiting to meet you again
my beloved friend just to prove that
i was able to taste your kiss indeed
all the time thinking of you

A poem by Tim Train
April 14, 2020

What I miss

I miss
Crossing light buttons
So softly
Gently responsive to touch
That click, smooth and sensuous,
The tick tick tick
As you wait to cross

I miss
Hugs,
For who amongst us has not been moved to hug
A crossing light pole,
From time to time,
A petrol bowser,
A particularly saucy-looking public water bubbler,
To lick them,
Consensually

I miss
( . . . )

A poem by Tanja ‘Lulu’ Play Nerd
April 16, 2020

virus (not) wanted

Once i wanted the earth to stand still
to make my brothers feel again the
beat of their hidden hearts and my
sisters connect again with their secret
souls and wisdom i never wished to
live in a world without wondering
about it all i followed this stupid
vision to become liberated from lies
but not from libraries or love i send
you this letter to tell you: i AM still
alive and i WILL continue to increase
the intensity of truth no matter if
inside my kitchen or touching the
sand and waves as my beach is
anyway just a virtual place in my
longing for a mental method that
helps humanity waking up and
STANDING STILL before some-
thing scary tries to kill each other!

A poem by oskar kabel
April 25, 2020

0023 [25. april 20]

creative industry. is not. a luxury. but.
with its $111 billion. annually. indeed.
systemically. relevant. for the entire.
economy. aber. wie systemrelevant.
ist. die freiheit. der poesie. und wie.
frei. ist diese. systemrelevanz. aller.
kritischen. dichter. wie unabhängig.
ist. sprache. wie systemkritisch. ist.
die unabhängigkeit. der verrückten.
wörter. how. systemically. relevant.
is. free. speech. beyond. institutions.
how. independent. is. language. at all.
how. systemically. relevant. are these.
freelance. artists. without. any. basic.
income. how. relevant. is. a. minister.
with. luxury. income. through taxes.