Johannes S. H. Bjerg

Five drawritings & Three spans of one-line poems

 



Thursday September 30 2021
(Dowland)

and just as you thought it wasn’t raining

what’s with the purple what’s with the hairdo?

gather in the small fishes of heaven

the relationship between absence and presence is a thorn

now you’re all tree you see the hidden web of lachrymal ducts

seven words for sorrow without feathers

I can do nothing but make a two-legged chair of your poem

with the cats and dogs two sparrows fall within





Thursday October 7 2021
(Purcell’s Fantasias)

void of dreams we crawl inside slugs

your jacket’s giving up emptying its sleeves for one last time

now your left hand is a bird you no longer want

it’s just that the turning of leaves leaves you numb

there’s till an awful lot of returning to do

his short life was full of strings and voices and wigs

dusknurses hum and sharpen their needles with lark spit

after all the night is bright enough to seep through you








Thursday October 14 2021
(pre-cog.)

you will check your phone battery 14 times watching the rain fall

a Western gale takes your name to the Russian plains

the road under your feet meets another and you’re lost

one last butterfly and you wrap yourself in the Psalms of David

you keep falling home and running out of string

it’s useless against the loss of daylight but you buy a new used walking stick anyway

on a short day you find the ocean where you left it

now there’s red and yellow where the green was

Johannes S. H. Bjerg thrives during the lockdown in a village in Denmark. He's already used to being semi-hermitic or hermeneutic or whatever it's called. He's the editor of Bones - journal for the short verse and The Other Bunny - for the other kind of haibun. He has published several books which can be found/downloaded at http://megaga.dk -> Books.
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