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Emma Lundenmark


 The chair about the sound Makrabet (excerpts) 

translation Mattias Forshage






should we fine roll o fine
on our toes but
the sound is flowing

should we eat o fine
polish the ladder
polish the soil

eat the soil

dragonblood between the eyes




the institute for asphalt
and concrete

and noise injuries

pink creeping magma

one mummified with the seriousness

nobody comes up to you

one mummified with wings

like red papers stain the air

before the butterfly

reaches for you

makrabet inschase




balcony under under
force syrup through the trunk mine
hands on the back just memories
of the sweat and others
birds  the frame dung
the tree does not fend itself the sun
heaves itself

erso emno
chia so neytala

nya peta

closer onto it

a wheelchair with her dog
she is travelling over lakes

the forest has a folded
paper under itself

and not even that

only loosely coherent
pleasures and shards





there is the bread  the people
the suspension

sheep eating on site

places against time

like every new time knows
about lips

 you have the sound in your mouth

close to the floor

the sound  the mouth





smile as the street
teeth eyes

your mouth wants

nails in apartment windows

smile that the street
knows about eyes

was flying in the dream tonight
was lying in the dream flowing like



sees ones image
in pouring rain

giggles your hands
builds the city lips

makes thinner voices holes







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