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poem

Destroyed landscape with

cans, house entrances

empty, what's in it? Here I came

.

by train in the afternoon,

two pots on the travel bag

fixed. Now I am

.

the dreams of a

Crossing hurts. And dust,

Pavane from dead

.

Neon, newspapers and rails

this day, what do I get now,

a day older, deeper and dead?

.

Who said that life like that

Is it? I'm going into

other blue.

In the midst of the “pensteralltag” and the “destroyed landscape” a goalless traveler moves here, who only sees the place of his arrival as an intermediate station on the long search for his own me. Between the lifeless urban scenes, between dust, “dead neon” and “detailed pavanes” (Pavane is actually a screaming dance) there are apparently still remains of utopia, because at the end of the poem that was created after 1970 I proudly announces the breaking up into a promise – in blue, in the color of longing and in the “south word bad” (Gottfried Benn).

In the phenomenal poems of his band westward 1 & 2 (1975), poet Rolf Dieter Brinkmann (1940–1975), the wild solitaire made visible among the poets of the “New Subjectivity”, the “Decoration Link” of Western civilization. Everywhere, in his “collages of everyday slow madness” he registers the destruction of cities, landscapes and people.

Michael Braun, Deutschlandfunk Poetry Calendar 2008, Verlag Das Wunderhorn, 2007