Category Archives: Dorothee Lang

Leading to by Dorothee Lang

Leading to

A circle. A destination. This day.
The everlasting question: how far is it still?

My expectations. Your silence.
The stones that count down the miles, in red paint.

Another photo of the horizon.
The fact that we are always t(here).

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Home and the road by Dorothee Lang

It was in a coffee break between two powerpoint presentations, with her expecting nothing but the usual small talk, that they came to talk about home. How it takes a while to feel home in a new place. How sometimes, you never reach that point.

“All my childhood memories are in another place,” he said. “When I moved here, I didn’t feel at home at all. It was just the place I lived, currently. Then, one weekend, I visited a friend, and after I left, somewhere along the road, I had this feeling of driving home.”

Maybe it was the combination of the two words that triggered the memory: home and road. “Once, when travelling in India, I went on an organized desert trip,” she remembered. “In Rajasthan, that was. Two days of desert, riding on camels, camping out there. A jeep picked me and the others up at the guesthouse, to take us to the starting point. They had music playing, Take me Home, Country Roads, and Sweet home Alabama. The songs accompanied us through the desert, and in the evening, at the camp fire, we sang them again, in the middle of this huge, empty, sandy landscape: Take me home, country roads, to the place we belong. Which was right there, for that song, for that day.”

.

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C/old Front by Dorothee Lang

Every day
h/our plan
of life –

This stack
of b/oxed hopes,
of I th/ink

G/rows
a little higher
a little edgier

When win/ter
moves in
we w/ill leave,
we say,

surprised
by the hidden mean/ings
of our words –

all those layers
we haven’t been
a/ware of

this
c/age
of possibility

this
s/low
c/lock
c/all

.

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(b)order by Dorothee Lang

a steady two or t(h)ree
percent of growth per (y)ear,

that had been the brief plan
of the general future

the concept of exponential scales and continental drift:
still hard to (g)rasp for our minds, even now

truth was, we still tried to (read)just the moment
when everything started to change
beyond our (b)order

when we had sat there, listening
to the close,
distant breaking
of (s)hells

.

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array, cloud, set by Dorothee Lang

She dials the number carefully. Voices surround her. A telephone box would be handy now, a space with a door, she thinks while she listens to the ringing of the phone on the other side of the line. Which, of course, isn’t a real line anymore, but a conglomerate of computers, transmitter and satellites. A black box of communication without answer.

She tries again, just in case.

“Hello,” she finally whispers into the phone, as if it would make a difference. “Hello, are you there.”
It’s not even a question any more.

She waits another two rings before she pushes the disconnect button. The she turns away, takes some steps into the crowd, becomes part of it again. A minute later, she is gone, while you still stand there, waiting for your phone to ring.

.

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(coin)cidences by Dorothee Lang

are tossed tangents
of chance,
flocks of relativity
touching the ground
right in front of
your feet
in the shape
of an invisible coin
pick it up and
live, now

or leave it

while you halt + read
live, now
backwards

while the heads
turn to tails

in this velo(city)
called our
life

which is
Leben
in German
and, in any mirror, turns to
Nebel:

fog.

.

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long(ing) by Dorothee Lang

we spent the first half
of the evening
in an affectionate distance
of observing the other
the unspoken questions
lingered rumpled, waiting
until they finally broke through the walls
we had tried to keep up
around us silence fell
like a veil
and took us back
to where we started,
once
a wor(l)d ago

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