Halibut — POEM 𝒃𝒚 Poul Lynggaard Damgaard
𝙄 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨.
𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨.
𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙡𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚
𝙚𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.
The Grauballeman — POEM 𝒃𝒚 Poul Lynggaard Damgaard
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙪𝙗𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙣
𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧,
𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.
𝙄𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢.
The Bricked Lines Over The Waters — POEM 𝒃𝒚 Poul Lynggaard Damgaard
𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙡
𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙬 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙤𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙠𝙚
— POEM 𝒃𝒚 Poul Lynggaard Damgaard
The personal approach
is the lie of perdition
The opportunity for dialogue was present,
but was engulfed by own reality.
— POEM 𝒃𝒚 Poul Lynggaard Damgaard
There is the curse upon all enquiries, that
questions and answers are the same.
Time makes you vulnerable, and you must keep away from
— POEM 𝒃𝒚 Poul Lynggaard Damgaard
I hold the skin against my own hands.
The bread bleeds around a neck.
Here there are a thousand phones,
but not enough phones for everyone.