Dark hall,
A person standing.
There is a glow,
Of darkness.
His eyes look,
And sees himself,
Reflected in your eyes.
It is dark,
He cannot see.
His world is within,
You, the outside,
Is in him.
The hand reaches out,
Bloodied, shivering.
You cannot hold it,
You cannot see it.
It is dark.
He stands there.
Merging with the wall.
It is dark.
He is old.
He wants your smile.
You cannot see.
He burns in himself.
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"This spirit of democracy – of inflicting himself creatively on the world in whatever form – is omnipresent throughout Kippenberger’s work" ............................................ "Be without fear. This is impossible, but let the small fears drive you......... set aside the large ones until they behave – then use them, maybe even write them. Too much fear and all you'll get is silence." ....expecting different results from repeated behaviour is a mild form of insanity....
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