‘Du hast einen Vogel.’
German. Literally: ‘You have a bird.’
Figuratively: ‘You’re mad.’
What thing entered just now, its dive-knife head
quite sailing through the rucked sail of my ear? Jeer,
kettle. Ignite, would you, hob. Jingle or clack, spice
My mouth is suddenly all moth – mind rigged and jigged,
that this torn urge, this tonnage, this project find me,
with a jink not a knock, jolt not a surge, siege or
and then disappear again in a curtain-jog,
returning – or rather turning – to its nest. Little
charting junctures, you knot-chord of discord
earthing jaggedness, you whiskered nixer and jinx
thrawing Juniper Pug and Gem, I have you.
At last I have you.