a short encounter with light



am I not a fleshy pinhole camera

the world projected upside down

in the dark room hidden inside my brain?


I see the big universe through the finite aperture of a small life

and try to narrow the circle of confusion


after a long exposure to daily life

I go to bed with a couple of nickel movies

captured on my vitagraph


my ideas are sharp but only in black and white

and my vision is a virtually constant depth of field


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Walter Isaacson on the women of ENIAC


Ever since the days of Charles Babbage, who conceived of a giant mechanical calculator called the Analytical Engine in the 1830s, the engineering of computer hardware has been dominated by men. The pioneers of software, however, were often women, beginning with Babbage’s friend and muse Ada, Countess of Lovelace. Daughter of the Romantic poet Lord Byron and a mother who loved math, Ada combined both fields into what she called “poetical science.” When she saw some mechanical looms that used punched cards to direct the weaving of beautiful patterns, it reminded her of how Babbage’s engine used punched cards to make calculations, and she developed the historic insight that a calculator could be instructed to handle not just numbers but anything that could be notated in logical symbols, such as music or words or graphics or textile patterns. In other words, she envisioned the modern computer. She also drew up…

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the brickless bricklayer


I am a broken brick stone

thrown by the roadside

next to an old railroad.

I lie in the grass

cooper red in the warm golden sun

soaked in the pouring rain

and I dream.

Sometimes a bricklayer would pick me up

with his big worked hands

examine me shortly

then throw me back on the ground

and I sigh.

I watch the cars, the clouds

the people passing by

all coming from and going somewhere

part of a built structure

that can’t be torn down

and I sigh

and I dream

of Taj Mahal

and Saint Peter’s Dome

of smiling with my freckled face

from the front wall of an old English house

or even from the front gate

at the end of a narrow asphalt road

inviting the guests in the wild garden

I dream of a small apartment block

made of rows upon rows of brick stones

all shining under a cape of mortar

happy to be stuck together

with their perfect edges.

but I’m a toothless old brick stone

thrown by the roadside

looking at my dreams, at my hopes

at my life passing by

waiting for a ride

in a steam train

on the old railroad

to the town of the brickless bricklayer.


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Undressing today

The daily prompt

Today, write about anything – but you must write for exactly ten minutes, no more, no less.


The world is spinning around, it’s a big big bulls..t, I don’t know where it started and I have a weird feeling it will not end. Feelings… what a hangover, of emotions I cannot digest, running around like an idiot, just doing things I don’t feel like, keeping myself busy, life is keeping me busy, time is flying, I am loosing it, it will be over soon and I am waisting it, this is what I think, this is what you get in the end, a bunch of ashes, a handful of dirt, two rotten bones, so stupid, so useless, so little time…

From tomorrow it will be different, I will concentrate on the important stuff, I will get better, I will love more, I will spend more time thinking in the people I love, I want to be close to, I don’t want to forget, I never want to forget, tomorrow I will be better, I promise, like hell I do, I swear, it’s going to fly, it’s gonna be awsome, it’s gonna crack, I am going to change everything, I am going to break through and all this darkness in my head will dissipate, there will be a bright light, all easy, and soft, and I will just let go… I will let go, I’ll fly, together with you my darling… tomorrow I will be all yours, I will never run away again… I promise… it will all happen tomorrow, no more sorrows, no more games, no more…

it’s quiet now

it is oh so quiet in my head

it feels like an embrace

oh so soft and beautiful

if I close my eyes

I can almost feel it

I am almost there

The mind is a tricky thing. The ego is a trap. I fall for it every day. What a waste… coming home shaking, the skin trembling on my body, all sucked up, dried up like a dry fruit, wasted, I swear, it is oh such a waste…

And myself, so forgetful. So little stays in this head of mine…

the I dilemma


there’s always this I

standing in the way


I love

I can’t

I suffer

I hope


filling up the universe

blinding me like a straw

in the eye


I feel

I think

I hope

but I want


breaking me down

with the will of its desires


I hate

I hope

I am thirsty

of power


there’s all these I’s

standing in the way

entire woods of shining swords

or huge wolf canines

ready to chew up everything


and I

hiding small and humble

behind these huge I’s

crushed in the dark

growing in the shadow

like a poisonous snake

crawling in the dirt

a freshly growing ego


it’s all about the I’s


the I hope

the I scream

the I shout

the I mourn


there are so many I’s

and the deeper I go

there is I in the I in the I


and I’m tired

I’m loaded

I’m useless

but I hope


and I can see no end to it

no relieve

no nirvana

I is filled with I’s

up to its cells

its atoms

its quarks


I can’t grasp anything

beyond the hopeless fight

of my egos


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the accidental threesome


a walk holding hands

strolling through the late Friday afternoon in the city

a me-and-you scene

window shopping

in the hipp boutiques of the 7th district

we’re going to pick up my lost phone

at the organic shop

when I suddenly hear:


„hola niña“


and there he stands in front of me

— I most certainly shivered with surprise

a sudden rush of adrenaline rocketing to my brain —

for a second we look each other in the eyes deeply

then he quickly slips by

I follow his half-circle trajectory

— orbiting bewildered in this new constelation —

and we all stop


„hola niña“ he says


I take a deep breath and I smile and I greet

— and I think to myself: whit a quirk of fate

we finally come to the end of it —

and he stands there as if stroke for the first time

by the sight of me plunging into his reality with a splash


„hola niña“ he says


and I feel a sudden shift in the attraction force:

it is too late for promises and mending broken hearts, I reply

quietly facing him with you looking over my shoulder

— and I know this is the turning point

the escaping gap I was searching for

and I rush through it madly —


„hola niña“

these are the last words

sealing the past

setting me free at last


I turn around and you say: ”who’s that guy?“

„just a friend“ I reply

happily evading this accidental threesome

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this great moment of silence


we are two huge stars

collapsing into each other

erupting out of our own gravitation

like hot lava

molding into a new planet



— you won’t believe it, I say,

for the first time

this moment, right here

is so real I can almost feel its fabric in my mouth

filling me up, bursting out of my skin —



I can see its spherical body

shaping out of our flesh

with high rivers eroding our bones

piling them up in mountains

our blood a deep dark ocean



— as we lie hand in hand at the shore

waiting for the sunset, you say,

our fingers will dive deep in the sand

and our hair will grow into leaves

rustling in this great moment of silence —



our new universe is carnal and wet

yet light is embedded in the dark matter.

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