Songs to embrace the trouble

Dominik Schindler

I.

Come to the troubled garden and see:

Where sovereign blossoms exude eternal scents ·

the bricolage of elder flowers’ breath and

looming storms of liquid presence shines.

From there take yellow · indecipherable white 

and merely assert yourself · as blooming blight ·

albeit withered away roses overarching sing ·

in uncanny revelations to planet Xenotopia ·

And never do dismiss to stay with the trouble ·

the purple leaves of militancy cheerfully decree

that life is a window to be smashed before

building quiet places aligned in vulnerability.

II.

The morning hours make me the other · that is 

not in shining metabolism. Mesmerised by the 

velvet lifestylisms in this lockdown-world · 

I meditate on the conjugation of the selves.

And police officers ask in overt friendliness 

after the well-being of meandering people 

on Parkland Walk. In other parts of the country · 

drones tail lovers at the beachside.

The remote struggle with revolutionary 

fervour ossifies · und graue wände strahlen 

im kalten licht der individualität. Alas · the city 

has no beachside · denn der strand ist leer.

III.

The bond of green stretches vastly between 

each two long rows of houses: patchwork of

raised beds · parched pasture and lurid paddling

pools on a geometric grid of angry fences.

And cats and squirrels play lava on these wooden

veins: the garden keeps us afloat. I cling to the 

beech tree but surely we are clinging together. 

When your markets crash · I embrace you with

pink cherry lushness and a newly sewed mask.

Curious waters drown your tears and the birds sing

their usual anti-capitalist stances. The moss calms  

crying TINA and young leaves stroke their face.

IV.

Try to hold your breath until the fireflies hum 

again · furiously shooting over the nettle leaves. 

Then the garden will be near and the Oxytocin 

cascade’s thundering mist brushes against your skin.

It instills a moist but lovely futility into your kinky

desires. Any sympathy with the upwardly mobile 

waters is unwanted · but water cannons quickly 

change your mind. Trees fall and still there is no

alternative: facial expressions are determined by 

tear gas from the law enforcement. And lilies roar

among the flames: you can’t evict a movement. 

Only ash knows that justice is commodified.