{"id":2529,"date":"2020-12-04T21:38:05","date_gmt":"2020-12-04T21:38:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/megaga.dk\/?p=2529"},"modified":"2020-12-04T21:38:06","modified_gmt":"2020-12-04T21:38:06","slug":"72-simile-72-similer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/?p=2529","title":{"rendered":"72 Simile \/ 72 similer"},"content":{"rendered":"<div style=\"padding-top: 50px; padding-bottom: 150px; font-family: Garamond,serif; color: black;\">\n<p><strong>72 Simile<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>like the core of an apple floating in zero gravity and someone says: Morning<\/p>\n<p>like the arm that cannot reach what you desire: the beach, world peace, Mount Meru, the off-switch on the mechanised kangaroo<\/p>\n<p>like the table filling itself with things and papers that\u2019ll help you remember that you\u2019re not stranded in a storm in Antarctica<\/p>\n<p>like a door in the middle of the room with nothing behind it and a jar of eyes<\/p>\n<p>like a rubber band that never worked as a substitute for a guitar string<\/p>\n<p>like the tiny screw that probably fell off some electronic gadget hibernating in your shoe<\/p>\n<p>like trying to find another word for cucumber because it\u2019s such a wrong sound<\/p>\n<p>like the shadow on your table that calls you Amundsen for no apparent reason<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>like a hollow screaming for fullness and a spoonful of strawberry jam<\/p>\n<p>like a needle hanging just above your iris in a thread of light waiting for darkness<\/p>\n<p>like the birds on the wires running through your Pieta-gland you\u2019re a handless glove<\/p>\n<p>like your repeated falling (naturally) with the rain of January and the lockless key in your hand<\/p>\n<p>like a puddle just deep enough to hold the moon, a crushed beer can and a twig<\/p>\n<p>like the spirit animal you never found but the other that digs out planetary systems from an ear<\/p>\n<p>like a single note (D) echoing in a thimble full of whales and crumbling cities<\/p>\n<p>like the cross-eyed archer you are shooting your arrows at The Pear of Doom<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>like the hand that shakes your eyes for rain<\/p>\n<p>like the vague figure with a presence of a hovering rock of light<\/p>\n<p>like your absentminded walking in crosses and horses<\/p>\n<p>like when you refrain from commenting on the fly on the hero\u2019s bald head<\/p>\n<p>like something-something swaying and cutting something-something: sulk!<\/p>\n<p>like the dizziness when another\u2019s horizon goes through you<\/p>\n<p>like a glass holding its own perpetual vortex<\/p>\n<p>like the wing you lost in a dream about cardboard humans<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>like when you believed the stories Castaneda spun in his brain cocoon<\/p>\n<p>like Victoria\u2019s requiem while the rain falls and falls and falls<\/p>\n<p>like you were someone else that did this to you: spoke without expecting an answer<\/p>\n<p>like the stairs in your knee leading to a hall of tongues and tremors<\/p>\n<p>like a mercury butterfly patiently waiting for its needle<\/p>\n<p>like the stale chocolate passed down from your ancestral oak<\/p>\n<p>like when space takes over your mouth and your chair becomes empty<\/p>\n<p>like the offence you can make yourself feel attacked by pollen<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>like a thorn in the word elbow you set out to sea<\/p>\n<p>like a leaf in the wind the leaf in the wind<\/p>\n<p>like you wanted to say something but an apple got in the way<\/p>\n<p>like the silence after your argument with the mirror<\/p>\n<p>like a parrot machine your left knee insists on turning towards Betelgeuse<\/p>\n<p>like the dismantling of the Put One Thing on Top of Another Thing Society and coins under table legs<\/p>\n<p>like the wishing well in Pandora\u2019s eyes<\/p>\n<p>like the simile that never made you think of swallows<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>like life was a party where everyone got drunk too fast<\/p>\n<p>like the allegory that scratched your corneas during an untimely moth storm<\/p>\n<p>like looking out on the ocean is a second head spinning on a stick<\/p>\n<p>like F. was a pianist growing Hasidic dreadlocks to get a sharper F#<\/p>\n<p>like the creaking doors in your house when you\u2019re out<\/p>\n<p>like the tiny shark in your shadow is an entrance to a bigger volcano<\/p>\n<p>like the Evening Land\u2019s Evening Land that cannot hide from itself<\/p>\n<p>like when the years of pilgrimage ended up in turning a chickpea this way and that way<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>like not being able to remember a dream you cannot wake up from<\/p>\n<p>like the scarecrow you once new when he was a rake<\/p>\n<p>like living inside a bubble in a fish\u2019s ear full of the consonants of waves<\/p>\n<p>like when during a migraine you can hear the clouds scratch against the sky<\/p>\n<p>like the elderly men who say that in reality there is no reality and pay their bills<\/p>\n<p>like the elderly men who say reality don\u2019t exist to any fly that\u2019ll listen<\/p>\n<p>like when your artistic source dries up and you begin to knit pets from barbed wire<\/p>\n<p>like the needle in your eye becomes a gate for camels<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>like in poetry where everything is like something else like a penguin chainsaw<\/p>\n<p>like squeezing a tear and calling it The Tree of Beginning<\/p>\n<p>like not being able to swim across the calendar of pauses<\/p>\n<p>like losing yourself in swans<\/p>\n<p>like coming out of the earth amongst silent crocuses dreamless<\/p>\n<p>like when having cold feet just means you\u2019ll have to put on socks<\/p>\n<p>like being envious of a blackbird and its direct connection with St. Francis<\/p>\n<p>like acknowledging the train in you and write your own tickets<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>like stretching your skin to catch the light from Betelgeuse<\/p>\n<p>like not being a radio yet full of songs you don\u2019t know<\/p>\n<p>like when you really want to be but you slip through your own cracks<\/p>\n<p>like coming out saying: \u201cI really don\u2019t fancy Bob Dylan\u201d yet you buy a yo-yo without string<\/p>\n<p>like when the Germanic wars play out in your knee at night and you\u2019ve forgotten your Latin<\/p>\n<p>like when you realise that the Aurora is just another attempt of trying to get your attention<\/p>\n<p>like the word \u201cskin hunger\u201d cannot cover the slice of prosciutto nailed to table<\/p>\n<p>like letting the night in because your lamps need something to do<\/p>\n<p>..<\/p>\n<p>(file date: 23.03 2019, Published: A New Ulster no. 80)<\/p>\n<p style=\"font-size: 48pt; color: marroon;\">.<\/p>\n<p><strong>72 similer<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>som et \u00e6bles kernehus der sv\u00e6ver i zero tyngdekraft og en eller anden siger: Morgen<\/p>\n<p>som armen der ikke kan n\u00e5 hvad du beg\u00e6rer: stranden, verdensfred, Bjerget Meru, slukke-knappen p\u00e5 den mekaniserede k\u00e6nguru<\/p>\n<p>som bordet der fylder sig selv med ting og papirer der skulle hj\u00e6lpe dig med at huske at du ikke er strandet p\u00e5 Sydpolen<\/p>\n<p>som en d\u00f8r midt i stuen uden noget bagved og et glas med \u00f8jne<\/p>\n<p>som en elastik der aldrig fungerede som erstatning for en guitarstreng<\/p>\n<p>som den lille skrue der sandsynligvis faldt ud af et eller andet elektronisk apparat og overvintrer i i din sko<\/p>\n<p>som at fors\u00f8ge at finde et andet ord for agurk fordi lyden af det er s\u00e5 forkert<\/p>\n<p>som skyggen p\u00e5 dit bord der kalder dig Amundsen uvist af hvilken grund<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>som en hul skrigen efter fylde og en skefuld jordb\u00e6rmarmelade<\/p>\n<p>som en n\u00e5l h\u00e6ngende lige over din iris i en tr\u00e5d af lys der venter p\u00e5 m\u00f8rket<\/p>\n<p>som fuglene p\u00e5 ledningerne der l\u00f8ber gennem din Pieta-kirtel er du en h\u00e5ndl\u00f8s handske<\/p>\n<p>som din gentagne falden (naturlig) med regnen i januar og den l\u00e5sl\u00f8se n\u00f8gle i din h\u00e5nd<\/p>\n<p>som en vandpyt kun lige dyb nok til at rumme m\u00e5nen, en kvast \u00f8ld\u00e5se og en kvist<\/p>\n<p>som det \u00e5ndedyr du aldrig fandt men det andet som graver planetsystemer ud af et \u00f8re<\/p>\n<p>som en enlig tone (D) der ekkoer i et fingerb\u00f8l fuld af hvaler og smuldrende metropoler<\/p>\n<p>som den skel\u00f8jede bueskytte du er skyder du dine pile mod Dommedagsp\u00e6ren<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>som h\u00e5nden der ryster dine \u00f8jne for regn<\/p>\n<p>som den vage skikkelse med et n\u00e6rv\u00e6r af en sv\u00e6vende klippe af lys<\/p>\n<p>som den distr\u00e6te vandren i kors og heste<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5r du afst\u00e5r fra at kommentere p\u00e5 fluen p\u00e5 heltens skaldede hoved<\/p>\n<p>som noget-noget der svajer og sk\u00e6rer noget-noget: hulk<\/p>\n<p>som svimmelheden n\u00e5r en andens horisont g\u00e5r gennem dig<\/p>\n<p>som et glas der indeholder sin egen vedvarende malstr\u00f8m<\/p>\n<p>som vingen du mistede i en dr\u00f8m om mennesker af pap<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>som da du troede p\u00e5 historierne Castaneda spandt i sin hjernekokon<\/p>\n<p>som Victorias requiem mens regnen falder og falder og falder<\/p>\n<p>som var du en anden der gjorde dette mod dig: talte uden at forvente et svar<\/p>\n<p>som trapperne i dit kn\u00e6 der f\u00f8rer til en hal af tunger og rystelser<\/p>\n<p>som en kviks\u00f8lvssommerfugl der t\u00e5lmodigt venter p\u00e5 sin n\u00e5l<\/p>\n<p>som den fade chokolade nedarvet fra dine forf\u00e6dres eg<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5r universet overtager din mund og din stol bliver tom<\/p>\n<p>som den forn\u00e6rmelse du kan f\u00e5 dig selv til at f\u00f8le n\u00e5r du angribes af pollen<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>som en torn i ordet albue s\u00e6tter du til s\u00f8s<\/p>\n<p>som et blad i vinden bladet i vinden<\/p>\n<p>som ville du til at sige noget men et \u00e6ble kom i vejen<\/p>\n<p>som stilheden efter et sk\u00e6nderi med spejlet<\/p>\n<p>som en papeg\u00f8jemaskine insisterer dit ventre kn\u00e6 p\u00e5 at vende mod Betelgeuse<\/p>\n<p>som opl\u00f8sning af S\u00e6t-\u00e9n-ting-ovenp\u00e5-en-anden-ting Foreningen og m\u00f8nter under bordbenene<\/p>\n<p>som \u00f8nskebr\u00f8nden i Pandoras \u00f8jne<\/p>\n<p>som den simile der aldrig fik dig til at t\u00e6nke p\u00e5 svaler<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>som var livet en fest hvor alle blev fulde for hurtigt<\/p>\n<p>som den allegori der ridsede dine hornhinder i en utidig natsv\u00e6rmerstorm<\/p>\n<p>som at se ud over havet er et andet hoved der roterer p\u00e5 en pind<\/p>\n<p>som var F. en pianist der fik Hasidiske dreadlocls for at f\u00e5 et skarpere F#<\/p>\n<p>som de knirkende d\u00f8re i dit hus n\u00e5r du er ude<\/p>\n<p>som den lille haj i din albue er en indgang til en st\u00f8rre vulkan<\/p>\n<p>som Aftenlandets Aftenland ikke kan skjule sig for sig selv<\/p>\n<p>som da pilgrims\u00e5rene endte med at vende en kik\u00e6rt den ene vej og den anden vej<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>som ikke at kunne huske en dr\u00f8m du ikke kan v\u00e5gne fra<\/p>\n<p>som fugleskr\u00e6mslet du kendte dengang han var en rive<\/p>\n<p>som at leve inde i en boble i en fisks \u00f8re fuld af konsonanter og b\u00f8lger<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5r du under et migr\u00e6neanfald kan h\u00f8re skyerne skrabe mod himlen<\/p>\n<p>som de \u00e6ldre m\u00e6nd der siger at i virkeligheden er der ingen virkelighed og betaler sine regninger<\/p>\n<p>som de \u00e6ldre m\u00e6nd som siger at virkeligheden ikke findes til enhver flue der er vil lytte<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5r din kunstneriske kilde t\u00f8rrer ud og du begynder at strikke k\u00e6ledyr af pigtr\u00e5d<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5len i dit \u00f8je der bliver en port for kameler<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>som i digtning hvor alt er som noget andet som pingvinmotorsav<\/p>\n<p>som at klemme en t\u00e5re og kalde den Begyndelsens Tr\u00e6<\/p>\n<p>som ikke at kunne sv\u00f8mme over en kalender af pauser<\/p>\n<p>som at miste sig selv i svaner<\/p>\n<p>som at komme op af jorden mellem stille krokusser dr\u00f8mmel\u00f8s<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5r det at have kolde f\u00f8dder blot betyder at du skal tage sokker p\u00e5<\/p>\n<p>som at v\u00e6re misundelig p\u00e5 en solsort og dens direkte forbindelse til Sankt Frans<\/p>\n<p>som at vedkende dig toget i dig og skrive dine egne billetter<\/p>\n<p>*<\/p>\n<p>som at udstr\u00e6kke din hud for at fanget lyset fra Betelgeuse<\/p>\n<p>som ikke at v\u00e6re en radio og dog fuld af sange du ikke kender<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5r du virkelig \u00f8nsker at v\u00e6re til men falder gennem dine egne revner<\/p>\n<p>som at komme ud og sige: \u201dJeg bryder mig virkelig ikke om Bob Dylan\u201d og dog k\u00f8ber du en yoyo uden sn\u00f8re<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5r de Germanske krige udspiller sig i dit kn\u00e6 om natten og du har glem Latin<\/p>\n<p>som n\u00e5r du indser at Aurora blot er endnu et fors\u00f8g p\u00e5 at fange din opm\u00e6rksomhed<\/p>\n<p>som ordet \u201dhudsult\u201d ikke kan d\u00e6kke skiven af prosciutto der er naglet til bordet<\/p>\n<p>som at lukke natten ind fordi dine lamper tr\u00e6nger til at foretage sig noget<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>72 Simile like the core of an apple floating in zero gravity and someone says: Morning like the arm that cannot reach what you desire: the beach, world peace, Mount Meru, the off-switch on the mechanised kangaroo like the table filling itself with things and papers that\u2019ll help you remember that you\u2019re not stranded in [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[75,135,22,21,50],"tags":[52,51],"class_list":["post-2529","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-digt","category-en-linje-historier","category-monostich","category-one-line-poem","category-poem","tag-digt","tag-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2529","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2529"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2529\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2530,"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2529\/revisions\/2530"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2529"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2529"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/megaga.dk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2529"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}