Travelling My Room
Grains of sand from Baltic tunes
crunch, carry pepper, salt and
coastal notes of seaweed into the room.
Scattered stone fragments from the Berlin Wall
crumble, mingle with pebbles
from the riverbanks of Nepal.
The Garden of Eden left its rotten apples
under Cezanne´s fruit bowl beside the bed.
A Polish paper on the desk is going yellow.
Over the stack of Rilke`s elegies
James Joyce smiles, a little thin-lipped.
The ceramic lamp made in Turkey sheds
a holey shadow on the curtain.
Near the door dirt from a Mittelholstein garden
clings to goat hairs from the Negev.
Dust balls travel through my room
and remind me of all the
wonders I have seen.