Bobby Larsson

Limerick Swing —

My postillion has been
                            struck by lightning
Let's go
going to Tipperary
                            snowman on the shoulder

Dun Seand
Dun Helsiang
Dun Beach

                           he was a good man

Argh maith.
Ta wourgh aigh

Je suis lantement      Gott Nytt År!
Tá mé lourchgha weirdh    ag núll

Willy wally
Bealtaine — gaelic for sex

Tá mé sainth
Tá mé righth

             the postillion is struck

Tá grá álainn i mo chroí duit
And the story bout Alan
             involving the axe
                         let's not

Arwen, most beautiful — sleep with me
Faethe, fairy friend — stand by my side
Kerye, dark eyes — tell me all the mysteries

              tha longest nite, tha nite tha neer ends, it'll beenough

Waking up on the highway, diamonds above
the sound of thunder in the distance
a lost dog licking in the face       stroking

Mac Oc, näcken
Mac Napp talking tunes of rhythm
             wheel you be there
                         when I'm gone

Living my life in the forest of the fir Bolgs the broken hearts singing
drummers drumming the leep san shou of the katmandu trapping the mac
hoping one day to come through, get a lap sang in the pillow

Yer lock has changed

                                                        What were you saying?

The jester sang for the king and queen
with the voice he borrowed from James Dean

                          jester lester come on fester

Dia duit ar maidin!

                                                         Swear the new
                                                         coming of the
                                                         — play sun!

I do not pretend to equate my knowledge with my knowledge
              it's a matter of literature
                           few can read, nobody can write

Right there,
it's a mess

                            Plantes aux hurmes vos picons
                            De paour des bisans si tres durs
                            Et aussi d'estre sur les joncs
                            Enmahes en coffres en gros murs

Hyvä Perse!
Hyvä Alta!

O, exodus primus
cubiculum sedet
rude nude
makebelif coat
of magical allocation
bene placito
             ad augusta per angusta
                          warte, warte
ad fundum
             adeste fideles

Prästinnan av den sorgliga skepnaden
drar från stad till stad med sitt vansinnesskratt

                          Och vi, sen
                          med händerna bundna

Amfiteatrar och koloner
pyramider och grifflar
tiergarten som en hägring
apfelstrudel utan sans
inga tomma löften, här

                          Postilljonen vid sidan av vägen
fastfrusen i dimman
spöken irrar vida i månskärans tid
mörkret som en kappa
fukten som en slöja
sörjig lera
give me an h

Hike the pacific crest trail
bag the Monroes
Santiago de Compostela
the valley of two lakes and Lough Derg
              beloved, I hope you're riding ahead
                          beloved, gaze in thine own heart, the holy tree is growing there

Wer aus Liebe heiratet, hat unter Schmerzen zu leben
Schopenhauer says and looks at the watch      — time to go
the lips touching the soil
a bit of a taste in an eye a thought     a square
and the wildness warm breathing thee
simple life in the difficult everyday

                          the inside of the panther     the unbecame

in Cill Chainnigh
St Lachtain is rebuilt
no excuses


Riding the waves of that black ocean
with a stout a pint in the right hand
and a flat sword in the left

                          Snart kommer döden som en dimma
                          som ett himmelskt ljus
                          eller en tisdag på IKEA

Vi ses vi ses i Connemara
Vi ses i blåsten där ölen är svart
Vi ses vi ses i Connemara
Vi ses igen efter denna ovädersnatt

                          Then happy I that love and am beloved
                          Where I may not remove, nor be removed

                                                         Come again!
Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle
the magpies said

To wait for you in the garden. In the garden stands a tree. It's an oak. But also a birch, a
maple, an appletree, a pine. The leaves, will. Under rusty roots the crocodilemouth, edgar.
And, on the top, the ezraic wind. With a red white and yellow piece of plastic bag humbling
like paul now late in life. With the knife you scrape a little of the brown and see antons
green. And ann, can you smell the fruits? Yes, collected by katarina in the flowerbasket. Birds
nesting over your head. Flowers blooming the white light of beauty. Nighttime is the right
time to be with the one you love, johan. No moss is not welcome here! The sun of ingmar
sees the eyes of the animals living in the garden. No bob can scare them away. So lars mikael,
wait for me in that garden. See the m through.

                                                         He who lives in the north has an echo in his phone