Writings

Potsdamer Strasse

After midnight. Rain, Rain - - -
We smoke a cigarette.
There is a smell of wet pebbles. Or it seems to be so.
Dodo is standing next to me like a dark, freezing seabird.
She is standing like on one foot, ducked into white feathering.
I give her a kiss.
Quietly she stands - - -
How happy I am - - -
The rain stopped a little bit.
There is a smell of wet pebbles.
„Goodnight, Dodo - - - - - Dodo - - - - -!? - - - - - Dodo?!”
“Oh Sir - - -“

How far could you go with a lost sole?

Somewhat hobbling on my right foot
I scuffled over her saloon’s creaking parquet.
On the other hand, I didn’t want to sit down in socks,
And, consequently, was relieved
That she was so noble to suggest,
I should pull them off completely.

Chu Shakan

Bonsai -
Wise old tree
Because he wants to be cared for infinitely
And doesn’t return anything
Except pure forms of apperception.

Newton

Spinning down to me,
She laughs like an apple.
With her green eyes,
She takes initial measures.

Harmonia Caelestis

Flying scarlet draperies,
Bookshelves, chimneys, rags,
Her baroque escritoire,
(I sold mine long ago),
The carpet - a woven poem.

She falls asleep around seven,
Next to her bed, look,
Don’t gamble with love,
Minutes later - sky brightens up,
A tranquil blurred light blue.

Gunther Stephan was born 1951 in Hameln (Pied Piper!), Germany and is currently living in Berlin (Prenzlauer Berg). He studied Philosophy and History in Frankfort and Berlin and worked as a financial analyst in Argentina, Brazil, New York, Berlin and Paris. Now he is in a position to devote his whole time to writing (essays, poems and very short stories), with his hobbies being meeting friends, big cities, and mathematics. He has three daughters.