Simo Nieminen

the final tears of paradise

will form

the boat where our gestures


like happy


you suture

on the spot

you are

the first prints

the animals have left

and we’re left with

a thousand ways of looking, avoiding traps

making observations

a language like Africa

and languages like math and




the fear of holding on

perfectly perfectly ordinary

it’s good to have fun

to be restful

it heals us somehow

a valid state


like a beeping

beware of feelings! and at the same time

feel free

when tomorrow slumbers

heedless of prophecies

you’re a nightingale

and everything is just

as troublesome

a precision rises in the small hours

that hits and sinks

every strike

breathes a thin threat

memories dig

into the face

beautiful deers mid-ditch-jump

a quarrel flows

in temperate harmony

a living flame as of new-lit torches

an extinguishing shower from a waterfall

rolls across the skin

spinal dents

like grooves paths quills cells blooms dust

you drip

into corners into newfound dreams

on a dark blanket silently

soundly celebrating

on the other side of this humming

many live as if unaware of us

and it doesn’t matter

here tears are capable

they wash

soft laundry

in flight

in the wind

hundreds of fluttering sheets

in knots

words all tied

part of the work site

cats on the boughs

are mewling in chorus

of love in all its forms


don’t stay

to keep gathering

in the middle of the day

and pssssht

don’t recall harshly

these trembling commandments

I was just shattered sticky with agony

and sensitive to the touch

a stony tablet

by my count it doesn’t take long

when they say

there is no ugliness

from any perspective

there is no ugliness

when you dare

to be

injuries and all

perfectly perfectly ordinary

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