Poem ©Eddy Levin

Collage of Loneness

The Corona pandemic provided some people more time to be alone. Sometimes, this may mean sitting with oneself without external distractions. Inky Lee, who lives alone, is one of these people. One night, she quietly sits in this state and observes the movements of her insides.

When there are no distractions at all, one is left with oneself: one’s thoughts, memories, feelings, body. Time stretches out. It may at first seem like boredom, then loneliness, then … something else, something like this, on this page. The Corona pandemic has shaven away many, even constant, distractions in Berlin, due to the drastic limitation of social events and activities. One winter evening, she sits in her room in this state of no distraction for a long time.  



They were nearly parallel but not quite. I didn’t think they would manage to meet. 
Perhaps this was my attempt at hiding the hollowness I felt inside.
Perhaps it was my way of loving. 
I was lying alone on the open grass, feeling the hollowness in my pelvis, staring …

The fainter trail was vanishing rapidly.
If only I had slightly worse memory and a slightly better sense of direction, 
everything would have felt slightly more manageable.  

The fainter trail was vanishing rapidly and I didn’t know if it would hold out until …  

I was too discreet (scared) and every word came too late to be spoken out loud.
As if nothing had happened …  

all drawings by Inky Lee



I saw your heads together. “I don’t have time for a rendezvous.” I’d like to walk. When I bite her neck, snow would fall. Anyone who has a little sense of aesthetics wouldn’t find it difficult to fall in love with her. “It’s wild in there.” She sweats profusely. Her skin is wet to the touch. I take my gum out of my mouth and hold it in my hand, so I can kiss her. We run down the night hill, laughing. “Just let gravity take you.” The sense of penetrating straightforwardness comforts me. “You’re not even out of breath.” “I’d like to be less afraid.” “We’ll feel ok if we only see the colours.” “Mirages in the desert.” Homeless people and beggars, “Open 24 hours,” like this black wind, rain, that has no frills. My black ponytail spreads like a water snake (or like my legs?) (the blond girl bit my inner thigh) (I had to be very careful with her ears because she had an unbelievable number of earrings, I didn’t even think to count them), hissing into the night.

If you listen carefully …


No Time to Die
a book found in someone’s room that she doesn’t go to anymore 
she can’t remember the name of the author
page 52


Idol of hundreds of girls.
Yes, girls only — I just love them!
The sound of my lorry
Comes out in pieces.
So usually when
The girls see me approach,
Hundreds of them
In many towns
Along the route I ply,
Line up to cheer me up,
While I tread
Majestically in Pieces:
Pr-r-r-r-r-r-r hm-m-m-m-m-m!
Pr-r-r-r-r-r-r hm-m-m-m-m-m!
Pr-r-r-r-r-r-r hm-m-m-m-m-m!
At this time
Some will be jumping
Up and down,
Others will be throwing
Their small fists into the air,
Heralding my approach
And calling my name:
The Boy
The Boy
The B …………..!

I met her on a Saturday, missed her till the Monday evening 
That’s inspiring, you said

every time my phone buzzes unexpectedly, I wonder if it could be her 

a wind chime
that hangs in a windless country
one day, a hint of wind casually passes by and rings the chime
I walk up with nonchalance                                                                         
the wind already gone

the morning I came home at 7:18 a.m.
an email from a semi-stranger knocks at 6:33 a.m.
feel more than weird and sad to have met you tonight
my deficiency so nude and crude

I appreciate your message, thank you, I reply

skin of a dead fish 
with hollow white space inside
a chime hangs 
in the middle 

that afternoon
you walk into my house calling my name without knocking
my door hasn’t been closed the whole night
I lie in bed 
you present me with a Käsestangerl 
leave swiftly 
like the wind

that was after the night dusk dawn 
I sat in a bar next to you 
tried hitting on the bartender until 
my hair caught on fire

another email falls in, signing out
with your fire eyes

sends me a photo of a massive stone
I like stones alright
I guess some throw stones at chimes when they do not know

this morning
you offer to share a meditation to cut ties with the past

afternoon at work
my phone buzzes 
for a second 
I wonder
could it be ? 

just someone else feeling lonely

a silent wind chime
I walk on 

hollow white space inside
is open
I let the sun pass through at times

at night
I drool on my arm 
get up to wipe it off with a tissue 
a windless night

I don’t know anymore
where I am


You’re right

I was in love for a moment

and I thought

I can’t hate myself for being a human

in fact

I can’t hate anyone for being a human

I’d do it all over again

because I’m a human


but my love is serious

I said to the retired German lawyer when he told me that in Germany love between women was never illegal 
while love between men was 
female love was never taken seriously

I’m not a woman. I’m a doorknob
said Agnes Martin

I can tell you that, whether I’m a doorknob or a woman, my love is serious

a young pretty man is turned on
by the thought of his girlfriend being with another woman
by the thought of him and his girlfriend being with another woman
but not by the thought of his girlfriend being with another man

he probably doesn’t feel threatened that another woman would take his girlfriend away from him
maybe he thinks women’s love isn’t serious

but I tell you
my love is serious


sweetness,                     . sun day,              .  —    you  
sweetness,                      coffee,                  —      you
sweetness,       green dissolving into grey,        .you

sun,                      my dear,     I say,                .   sun

In this small city with the ever flowing Rhine 
I want 
to come 
on your door
make that slow twenty-minute walk 
the bridge
knock                              my knuckles  .. clunk
to say                                        Guten Morgen

Guten Morgen,        ..    sweetness,      ..            it’s you
sweetness,               …. of waiting,            …… -. you
your distance,           . approaching,          ..          . you

The wife exhibits her “Russian blood”, starts smashing everything in the house, screams auf Deutsch, Mann!
I put a piece of apple in my mouth, feel like vomiting, run to the bathroom, sit through the slow breakfast with water

the sun has disappeared 
into afternoon  

I tell myself
—————————————————————simplicity     — —  ————     you

my glass doesn’t shatter
it makes quiet lines
when it’s about to break
I slip a new one in   ……..unnoticed
each time thinner                                               


everything is easy

making coffee is easy
making decisions is easy

being courageous is easy
doing is easy

eating is easy
thinking is easy

walking is easy
walking away is easy

being comfortable is easy

some people have told me that 
they have never felt comfortable in their bodies

is a strong word

I never loved you
I never meant to hurt you

words are easy
so is silence