Johannes S. H. Bjerg
Born 1957 in Copenhagen, Denmark
Living in Højby, Denmark
http://2tongues.blogspot.com
Contact the poet
Orthoorama
59 solar eclipses tall
the permafrostbear growls down
a stone face
one bridge after the other never to turn on the turmeric finger
still recovering from birth
I live
under my hair
turn to swallows to snow to salt out where the ocean's lost
slowly outgrowing
the state of perpetual
innocence
looking back until the white in your eyes becomes space
talking to clouds
she brings just one
mercury pill
deep inside its head the whale grows a tree
knead light into a bowl
and then … the melatonin-angel
scatters
by the far end of your gaze neurons become deserts
Mothology
- or Dr. Magnificus Schuster's Orchestral Rehearsal at the Morgue
moth driven
the glacier stops
by the Sunday china
not many can do that blow and suck in light through a trumpet
half her hip is a galaxy
leather fingers count all the 1's
in an eel
a faint flicker in the non-person and revolution eats itself
Schuster's Asylum
each child's head filled with soil
and dolphins
until Time gets here let's build cones of sand
indivisible
the snap of the fingers
round midnight
the largest ear in orbit zooms in on questions about horses
a noise in the next room
Schuster conducts an orchestra
of radium beetles
it's a story in which you put needles into smokedolls
she gets away
the girl with a copper beech
growing inside her
to start a hill first dig a hole in another place
Blues Man Ogre Hands Jr.'s Long Afternoon
paralysing heat
fingers merge with the neck
of a guitar
if I had it from the start I wouldn't know what it's like to not have it
selling his shoes to the devil
the devil now
walks
for the magic hairs on peach skin a 3 chord waltz
a tower of mosquitoes
and on the last one
we build a church
off in the distance a rumbling like the ultimate chord
trusting the creek
we believe in the man
who once stood still
when the chorus comes round again flay the goat
with trees attached to it
a holy place
becomes a phone book
that's the cure for rot turning the guitar upside down
on a nail in his third eye
the crow
he once was
come time come rain the bottle fills the bottle
in Area 51
the birth of
Almond Shaped Eye Blues
they all agree “it's like he wasn't even there”
by bridges
at crossroads and stations
Jr. leaves his signed hats
“Hark, ye angels, hookers and creeps Ogre Hands' Eternal Blues!”
always measured against the impossible cornflower
Sonic Boom 1, December 2014
between nights a palimpsest of light's scribbles
Sonic Boom 1, December 2014
hardly enough for a v geese in a /
Sonic Boom 1, December 2014
108 maha-mantras
that's the circumference
of this (w)hole
Sonic Boom 2, April 2015
archetypo
Sonic Boom 2, April 2015
when guilt has a face tenderness
Sonic Boom 2, April 2015
not a sign of elevated consciousness just mild nausea
Sonic Boom 2, April 2015
identity train
I get on as soon
as I get off
Sonic Boom 3, August 2015
vedada
Sonic Boom 3, August 2015
escapistol
Sonic Boom 3, August 2015
wrapped in a blackbird sunrise remains a legend
Sonic Boom 3, August 2015
not mine the space I can hold in one hand
Sonic Boom 4, December 2015
it's between the furniture too the gigue
Sonic Boom 4, December 2015
Un Coeur en Hiver
(Maurice Ravel - String Quartet in F major)
making guesses
about a dead king's feelings
jumping fish
let's roll it that stone from the grave
the grace of light
how fleeting we kiss
dead gold
not as we predicted: a star vanished
***
we had a dream of pillars and bridges
bits of the body
now deserts – weapons
might help
'nough said about death let's make it happen
is it a sickness?
that longing that stems
from mud?
***
establishing democracy
a blue snake with
our genes
let's eat god before he eats us
a little more
than a shadow – the room
we are born in
screaming the metal despair in Abraham's sky
***
virginal fluids if that's what it takes to rise
swoon and sway
the lizard of the spine
now on her wall
rush the angels demons scarabs rush
it's that time
of the year – unwillingly
feeding the black dog
Under Darkness
after the service
the priest fastens the lids
on the holy rats
slowly
she emerges from
an index of metals
”they're still here,
all 12” he rolls a ciggy
using a page from Genesis
her teeth growing
to full maturity piercing
the dark
the ultimate sacrifice again
will vinegar remove
holiness?
she eats moths
and lost swallows retracing
the song of revenge
sigh
something's rattling its chains
in the basement
time crawls into a worm
the room echoes
with uncounted days
smoking The Flood (in silence)
he mistakes The Mother's Face
for a needle
stopping at 80
she exits her chrysalis
a mercury butterfly
forked
the tongue that gives him
a blow-job
she's here and
not here as a flesh-eating
voice
half awake
embracing the end of marble days
The Ultimate Word
drops to the floor
and fades
hush | hsuh
Moongarlic 5 Issue: 5, Nov 2015
before and after the fall lilacs
Frozen Butterfly 3, 2015
following the frequency of civilisations one snail one pen
Frozen Butterfly 3, 2015
little I knew now it's less and a licorice pipe
Otoliths 39, November 2015
the length of the wind all day
Otoliths 39, November 2015
clearing the third ear for non sociable athletes
Otoliths 39, November 2015
not like that she says the far end of the wind passes
Otoliths 39, November 2015
a mountain from the basic condition of if
Otoliths 39, November 2015
close to the railway the red hat and its head
Otoliths 39, November 2015
with pliers making room for a fjord in Das Wohltemperierte
Otoliths 39, November 2015
you could get that blackbird into a love song
Otoliths 39, November 2015
that the tongue plays with empty space
Otoliths 39, November 2015
4 days dead she spills sugar and sleeps with his coat
as Gerald O'Mudd, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
a room filled with papers mum and son dressed in blue
as Gerald O'Mudd, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
opposition group political cartoons and the transistor's on
as Gerald O'Mudd, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
his car dragged away the world blue
as Gerald O'Mudd, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
it's a game and a release they're both pale
as Gerald O'Mudd, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
listening to how he's being erased from her the dead grabs a glass
as Gerald O'Mudd, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
in a socialist state ghosts and love
as Gerald O'Mudd, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
kiss. and fish. she
goes no. where we are.
r wii
as Giovanni Monte, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
half his face
in shadow we invent
a currency of grass
as Giovanni Monte, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
½a room
the rest come across
as prayers
as Yaman, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
the chair we call
blue vertically paling
the carpet
as Yaman, Masks 4, R'r 12.3
Alice's Night (a sequence)
sinking into my skin a chain of yellow teeth
days shorten a rattle of a chain from somewhere
the first tinted leaves I'm a bone
ten billion cells hardly a language left
as the turning point approaches a handshake
small winds gather to larger ones the dog yawns
“I do understand” a spider dries up behind the sun
this could be a paper ladder the label says not
the minister took the name Lamb the rest is Chinese
beads of blood from a stone this hissing song
between falls still a clock to wind
“let me do it” a rosary of dead stars
everything is bigger there and the dogs
“I call it blue, kinda” death is upstairs
a shining mountain it's people that brings darkness
guns talk democracy for billionaires
where Alice stepped in a squashed frog
“it could've been on a Sunday” a rope dangles from a cloud
A Hundred Gourds 2:2, March 2013
Danish version of Alice's Night
Alices nat
synker ind i min hud en kæde af gule tænder
dage bli'r kortere en raslen af en kæde fra et ubestemt sted
de første farvede blade jeg er en knogle
ti milliarder celler knap nok et sprog tilbage
ligesom vendepunktet nærmer sig et håndtryk
små vinde samles til en større hunden gaber
“jeg forstår det godt” en edderkop tørrer ud bag solen
det her kunne være en papirstige mærkaten siger nej
ministeren to navnet Lam resten er kinesisk
perler af blod fra en sten denne hvæsende sang
mellem fald stadig et ur at trække op
“lad mig gøre det” en rosenkrans af døde stjerner
alt er større der og hundene
“jeg kalder det blå, en slags” døden er ovenpå
et lysende bjerg dets folk bringer mørke
pistoler taler demokrati for milliardærer
hvor Alice trådte en mast frø
“det ku' ha' været på en søndag” et reb dingler fra en sky
winter etudes (a sequence)
Matins a D-minor chord while the coffee brews
almond flowers silent etudes for a skull
how this waltz grew mute and fifty mysteries on a chain
where The Book would have been rusty nibs and laudanum
moorish tiles all faces turned inwards
coughing roses in winter it's plausible
Prime a halfhearted mazurka and the mist the mist the mist
a faint spatter of blood it's nothing my dear
between the screams of pigs the sound of an angry pen
in Polish he longs for Paris Terce
it fades as we smoke the kids are outside
the piano sleeps praying they still walk the hallways
ivory kneeling for Sext in C-major
it's time but it's not a red bougainvillea and she slams the door
she is away the middle four octaves are ebony
this note tells about rain None
a notebook with corrections major to minor and back
just this word nocturne and a day has passed
Vespers as the winter settles in the lungs
lush valley the sunset enters his mouth
how many more breaths and scales Compline
Published in Modern Haiku 43.2, 2012
The Danish version of Winter etudes
vinteretuder (en sekvens)
Matutin en D-mol akkord mens kaffen brygger
mandelblomster stille etuder for en hovedskal
hvordan denne vals blev stum og halvtreds mysterier på en kæde
hvor Bogen ville have ligget rustne pennehoveder og laudanum
mauriske fliser alle ansigter vendt indad
hostende roser om vinteren det er tænkeligt
Prim en halvhjertet mazurka disen disen disen
et ubetydeligt blodigt sprøjt det' ingenting kære
mellem grisenes skrig lyden af en vred pen
på polsk længes han efter Paris Tertia
det falmer mens vi ryger børnene er udenfor
klaveret sover bedende går de stadig i gangene
elfenben knæler for Sext i C-dur
det er tid og ikke en rød bougainvillea og hun smækker med døren
hun er væk de midterste fire oktaver er ibenholt
denne node fortæller om regn Non
en nodebog med rettelser dur til mol og tilbage
blot dette ord nocturne og en dag er gået
Vesper mens vinter sætter sig i lungerne
overdådig dal solen går ned i hans mund
hvor mange flere åndedrag og skalaer Komplet
thaw I brush off my social skills
tø jeg børster mine sociale færdigheder af
New Resonance 8, 2013
licking her salt becomes my second half
at slikke hendes salt bli'r min anden halvdel
New Resonance 8, 2013
sandalwood I perfume the invisible one
sandelstræ jeg parfumerer den usynlige
New Resonance 8, 2013
winter solstice a few hundred snowflakes trying to land
vintersolhverv et par hundrede snefnug prøver at lande
Ardea Issue 2
last rose I ask again till the answer is right
sidste rose jeg spørger igen til svaret er rigtigt
Modern Haiku 43.1, 2012
agape my brother hands me rotten apples
agape min broder rækker mig rådne æbler
Modern Haiku 43.3, 2012
a word that takes time defoliation
et ord der tager tid afblomstring
Modern Haiku 43.1, 2012
between two stars (that one and that) a god in our image?
mellem to stjerner (den dér og den) en gud i vort billede?
Modern Haiku 43.3, 2012
western gale a non-seasonal loneliness
vestlig kuling en ikke-sæsonbetonet ensomhed
A Hundred Gourds 1:2 March 2012
above behind in front of the rain rain
over bag foran regnen regn
A Hundred Gourds 1:2 March 2012
what if what if what if … I teach him to download anime again
hvad nu hvis hvad nu hvis … jeg lærer ham at downloade anime igen
A Hundred Gourds 1:4 September 2012
raga lalit the first thing painted is the clock
raga lalit den første ting der males er uret
A Hundred Gourds 1:3 June 2012
sneezing (alone) I watch a kigo melt
nyser (alene) jeg ser et kigo smelte
A Hundred Gourds 1:3 June 2012