1. (white man’s ghoul / april 28 2015)

^{translated from the Norwegian by Gabriel Gudding}

the history of boats      begins in the far north
on a southfacing shore      here we see a man with a fake beard
madeup to look weatherbitten      standing with his back to us
knocking on pine trunks bursting with pitch
with an ax haft of pine      saying scared trees
make the best boat timber      all boats begin with someone standing
kneehigh in the surf      which in my language means mother of all borders   
which in your language means      that which no fence can encompass     
our respective republics      totally refused to sponsor this film
they don’t want to know how it ends      so i turn toward the camera
and read my manifesto      the first time the earth was discovered
it was the second fall of man      we thought it was the sea itself
that bade us take      all that we found on the trip      from here to paradise
where we ourselves were snakes      and pretended we were humans
and ate and ate      a bitter lesson      it was the third time
the world was discovered      that i was lying all alone naked and shitfaced 
while the others sang      and tore the flesh from your mom’s body 
after that i grew blind to the world      up until your grandpa (peace be upon him)
asked me at a party     who are we      who are you really
behind his back over his shoulder i saw the christmas tree’s glinting baubles
hanging so poor and cheap in its popcorn bunting
the fourth time      the day after      you chased me
into the sea shouting      teach yourself to swim
the best boat’s already wet      you were hard to read 
already an adult      i was as proud      as i was scared
and i swam away      the fifth time
i waved with glow sticks      from a raft   
do i get to come home again      and i’d hoped it was you
who had answered      you are forgiven      but it was my grandchildren
who led me ashore and showed me your grave      they said you had said
that i would come back      certainly bearing gifts
for which they should say thanks      and be sure to give them in turn 
to the poor      the sixth time      i learned your language
i read ever so slowly      the books where i myself am the murderer
the seventh time      i wrote a book as a response to all these books
my second home      my third life      it was quite ahead of its time
and was most unfairly overlooked      the eighth time i have turned gray
and want like few others      to write auto-bio-graphically      as a 
talkative transparent student      dreaming of throwing stones 
at the cops      joining every demonstration while i scream
i am way too old      to go to school      all of which is in your book
which i was instrumental in writing      i also wrote poems in my youth 
and discovered the world      in fact yes      one very last time
when i was going home to die      but got lost      and ended up here