July 26, 2013

New book

"Paper Bell Lesson / Papirklokkebelæringerne" is now available in print at CreateSpace eStore: https://www.createspace.com/4317382 

In a week's time it'll be available at Amazon too

Free dowload/read (e-book)

Issuu (flip book)

July 24, 2013

coins - a haibun


dans les bras de Morphée a kiss evaporates

While I'm looking for a camera that would enable me to film some living coins a hitherto unknown nephew starts building a house around me. It's not that I was out in the open before he began. I was going around my business following this idea of making this film of actually living coins, two I found in a drawer. They weren't alive when I put them there some 20 odd years ago, but apparently something happened in the meantime. My wife (she is my wife in this dream) is in a room I cannot see looking for a job. It's mandatory. She has to to get unemployment benefit. In the dream as in real life. Obviously it's not her dream.

closed ice-cream shop
we queue up
for nothing

It takes me quite a while to find the camera. I know what it looks like (and it's nothing like a camera, more like a cheap microphone from the 70's; that's dreams for ya) but I can't find it. It's that feeling: you know what the missing thing is, what it looks like, where you think you have seen it, where you put it the last time you used it, what the drawer/box/closet/cupboard smelled like. But it just isn't to be found. Gone, it is.

I began looking for it in my usual flat surrounded my the usual mess but as nephew X was building the flat became a house and the house was now in the city and not in the village I live in. More and more family members and friends I haven't seen for years began walking around in the house. They all wore summer clothes and drank their preferred drink from plastic glasses. At least my sense of season is in sync.

that's when
the blackbird
starts singing

At long last I find the damn camera but then the house is full of people I'd rather spend time with than with coins, alive or not. The dream-nephew finish his work by painting all the walls white.

hot morning
a couple splits up
beneath my window

July 21, 2013

night train

from nothing a couple of shakes [seeing god on the train] […] the on/off existence of villages. flash. can I where your dog / a face lit by a phone [hush] your scent. a lonely-chair. the absence of sky at night |talk don't talk remind me don't remind me. hold | fructose. a flock of dolphins at the all night gas station. rain pass don't pass me by. this tree has leaves in summer [slept too long the day is broken] up my nostrils almond oil and your juices add me to the list of emigrants | your piece of the ground 25 dog-ends a crushed snail | a fable about the young earth and a dream of innocence some Chinese or whatever has woven the fabric we sit on [press “stop” and mind your luggage] down pressed down. a note with “sor ..” just readable


July 15, 2013

Slime Monday

a hatful
of head

discussing the significance of skid-marks in a self-proclaimed prophet's underwear theorists reach a point where for a king to be a certain and named king who died in a joust for him to be that king which is supposed to be the one mentioned in a certain prophesy he must have been someone else if we don't take into account that just by putting this vision onto a page and publishing it thus making it spread to thousand of living vibrating minds in itself will influence the future in such a way that the king wasn't king or even a human being but an apple with two cores ...


I zap on to another programme where a man back in the 1970's win 64.000 kroner by answering a question about rare stamps

I draw
the card
of the Fool

           slime Monday
          (not mentioned in the calendar)
           a lead snail sucks up
           the blue
           of the sky

July 10, 2013

one red aphid

in a cloud
They spend five and twenty years on all kinds of studies to predict what eternity might look like. Radio telescopes, giant stethoscopes, X-rays and plastering it over with ultrasound gel, sonar pings, paper aeroplanes, waxed swan’s wings, tin cans wrapped in tinfoil and ... you name it.
Having done what they could and assumed what was reasonable they reached only one point of agreement, one thing they could say with 75% certainty: eternity is pale green and has thick carpets. Two points on which they could agree.
my fave
is the red one

I put my hammer to work
on Livjatan

July 08, 2013

some haiga

Published in Note from the Gean 21, July 2013

Published in Note from the Gean 21, July 2013

July 07, 2013

New book / Ny bog


My book of bilingual linked hariku: ”notes 10 11 -12 / noter 10 11 -12” has been published by Yet To Be Named Free Press.

”Here, at its best, is Bjerg's unique ability to jump effortlessly from mythology to everyday life. A book of haiku that modestly tips its cap to traditional Japanese literature, while remaining authentically Danish throughout.  It is the perfect companion for the imagist stranded on a desert island. ”

Brendan Slater, writer and publisher


Min bog med lænket haiku i to sprog: "notes 10 11 -12 / notes 10 11 -12" er blevet udgivet på Yet To Be Named Free Press.

"Her på sit bedste, er Bjergs unikke evne til at springe ubesværet fra mytologi til hverdag. En bog med haiku, der beskedent tipper sin kasket til traditionel japansk litteratur, men er ellers autentisk dansk. Det er den perfekte ledsager for en imaginist strandet på en øde ø. "

Brendan Slater, writer and publisher


My own Intro:

The poems in this book may have the outer appearance of the haikai linked forms “rengay” and “yotsumono” but they don't necessarily follow the “internal” rules of said forms and they are written by one person and not by several. I merely took the structure of these as a skeleton on which to hang these somewhat diary-like notes written during the months of October and November 2012. Reading them again I see the dynamism of outer reality in dialogue with my inner ditto - my mind processing impressions from various sources scattered across time. Said in another way: it's just me sitting in a couch in Kali Yuga jotting away ...


Digtene i denne bog fremstår måske som de lænkede haikia former ”rengay” og ”yotsumono” i den måde, de fremtræder på, men de følger nødvendigvis ikke de ”indre” regler, som ligger i disse, og de er skrevet af én person og ikke af flere. Jeg brugte blot strukturerne som et skelet, som disse dagbogs-agtige noter fra oktober og november 2012 kunne hænge på. Når jeg læser dem igen, kan jeg se dynamikken i min bevidsthed mellem den ydre virkelighed og den indre ditto - min bevidsthed, der behandler indtryk fra forskellige kilder spredt ud over tiden. Sagt på en anden måde: det er blot mig, der sidder i min sofa i Kali Yuga og skribler …