Poul Lynggaard Damgaard


Defense of the street

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Nothing without signs

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Dear city,

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The courage of the junction

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You have to make sure that the eyes

can exist,

when you are a parade in the air.

Below the plant is wild and the


leaves rise over my childhood.


You can reach out with what you had

towards the right time.


We must let it pass like the moment yesterday

and look up and beyond ourselves. I look out

between the trees. Yet another depth in you

among juncus. None of us are visible to anyone

other than those claiming that what's over us is ink.


The thought is right in front of me in the pure form.

Visualized, there is nothing else to achieve

than the golden streets.


You can stretch your distance

towards the next point.


Realized as a civilized person.

Your next step is white.

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