at the moment i
am
working mostly on the
poem’s inner lines
am moving in reali
ty more
from one particu
lar core to the next
rather than from he
deboerne
across to
andebølle and
back again i am
really
mainly walking in
the shadow of words
i pulled myself in
to grammar’s most tang
led
undergrowth of blackber
ry bushes
where the words were
cold and black like the
juice of the berries
themselves and i tacked
the poem toge
ther with
thorns and afterwards
sealed it
with silicone de
fining it as quite
untranslatable
i withdrew i made
my retreat into
untranslatability’s
densest
thicket of dogrose
bushes locking the
poem in a lan
guage that was so ut
terly danish that
it could
only be read and
experienced
under a
sky that was lit up
by norse cirrus clouds
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