Leif Holmstrand, trans. Johannes Göransson

from Refrain from Tragedies


I.

refrain from tragedies and cooking programs and your dog and your many friends and absolutely don't watch the news or your cuticles #crash

                                    We have no body. That really doesn't matter.
                                    Barely any thoughts either. We do have
                                    everybody else's bodies and thoughts,
                                    and all light and all darkness in the make-believe world:
                                    smooth-gray silk-shimmering evened out
                                    silver memory, no present. Or just a present,
                                    I can't see the difference.

 

II.

what happens when you stop fretting about entertainment and instead direct this rat-like energy inward toward a shameful worn-out interior #dramacomedy

                                    When rain suddenly falls over our
                                    dry attempts to make contact with other
                                    species it is time for the other organisms
                                    to not just be born, but also to thrive.
                                    We will of course strike back, in our most rat-like ways,
                                    and fail, but survive all the same
                                    and faint from laughter, honest joy.

 

III.

stop asking about directions and positions and instead devote yourself to relaxation techniques in space #down #up #rest #waking #rip

                                    We can't take maintain twitter accounts, money,
                                    or disks, homepages, the next falling star,
                                    our worrying, impending but contourless
                                    sex scandals, but words will come nevertheless,
                                    likely dead, waking, crawling
                                    digital, in too many layers from our mouths,
                                    chapped-up or rather roasted into
                                    sooty crack-nets

 

IV.

why should we dwell on each other's shortcomings and successes when everything can be dissolved in glitter spray and joy #afk #futurity #party

                                    It's not possible to be serious. Something from
                                    the injury gets in the way, we have to poke fun at it.
                                    Look how the skulls peel, sequins. That is
                                    what it looked like, the loss of colleagues, it was how
                                    the family submitted to the recipient group's bad
                                    brain, which caused this eternal unserious,
                                    shallow love.

 

V.

you should be like a dog because that means soft cozy fur and a jaw good for biting in addition to positive aesthetic qualities #partnershift #irl #attack

                                    The final day is delayed. Now our wishes
                                    are sent via robot-mediation down to Asami
                                    Kannon, where the failures can live in thousands
                                    of seeing hands at the tip of the fibers, which live
                                    swelling up from the bottom of the night-sky's through
                                    the eyes. They are scattered shards, the eyes. We have slept
                                    too little, are starting to repeat ourselves.

 

XIV.

what will remain on a purely material level when the glass bacteria die due to poisoned feed that is when daylight is broken down by glass bacteria #composting

                                    It's like everything is destroyed and therein is
                                    the DELIVERANCE: we hover through
                                    hopelessness out into the chilling love-nerve's
                                    perforated eye-tunnel where we see our habits
                                    inside, helplessly. To be separated out and drained
                                    is no problem
                                    nor is death in the apartment next door.


Avstå från Tragedierna


I.

avstå från tragedierna och matlagningsprogrammen och din hund och dina många vänner och se absolut inte nyheterna eller nagelbanden #krascha

                                    Vi har ingen kropp. Det gör verkligen inget.
                                    Knappt några tankar heller. Alla andras
                                    kroppar och tankar har vi,
                                    och allt ljus och allt mörker i låtsasvärlden:
                                    jämngrått sidenskimrande utslätat
                                    silverminne, ingen nutid. Eller bara, kan ju
                                    inte se skillnad.

 

II.

vad händer om du slutar gnaga på underhållningen och istället riktar denna råttlika energi inåt mot ett skamligt särslitet inre #dramakomedi

                                    När det kommer plötsligt regn över våra
                                    torra försök till kontakt mellan
                                    arter är det dags för de andra organismerna
                                    att inte bara födas, utan också frodas.
                                    Vi slår självklart tillbaka, så råttlikt vi kan,
                                    misslyckas, överlever trots allt
                                    och kiknar av skratt, uppriktigt lyckliga.

 

III.

riktningar och positioner bör du sluta fråga om för att istället ägna dig åt avslappningsövningar i rymden #ner #upp #bort #vila #vakna #rip

                                    Vi kan inte sköta twitterkonton, pengar,
                                    inte disk, hemsidor, nästa stjärnfall,
                                    våra oroande, nära förestående och konturlösa
                                    sexskandaler, men ord kommer i alla fall,
                                    sanningsenligt döda, vakna, krälande
                                    digitala, i för många lager ur munnarna,
                                    söndertorkade eller snarare rostade till
                                    sotiga spricknät.

 

IV.

varför skall vi dröja vid varandras tillkortakommanden och framgångar när allt kan lösas upp i glitterspray och lycka #afk #framtiden #party

                                    Det går inte att mena allvar. Något kommer
                                    emellan vid skada, vi måste ha roligt åt det.
                                    Titta så skallarna flagnar, paljetter. Det var
                                    så det såg ut, bortfallet av kollegor, det var så
                                    familjen underställde sig mottagarledets dåliga
                                    hjärna, vilket orsakade denna evigt allvarslösa,
                                    grunda kärlek.

 

V.

som en hund skall du vara för det betyder mjuk myspäls och bra huggkäft vid sidan av estetiskt positiva egenskaper #partnerbyte #irl #attack

                                    Den sista dagen dröjer. Nu skickas våra
                                    önskemål via robotförmedling ner till Asami
                                    Kannon, där misslyckandena får bo i tusentals
                                    seende händer längst ute på fibrerna, som lever
                                    böljande uppåt från natthimlens botten genom
                                    ögonen. De ligger i skärvor, ögonen. Vi har sovit
                                    för lite, börjar upprepa oss.

 

XIV.

vad blir kvar rent materiellt när glasbakterierna dör på grund av giftig föda alltså när dagsljuset bryts ner av glasbakterier #kompostering

                                    Det är som förgjort och däri ligger
                                    RÄDDNINGEN: vi svävar genom
                                    hopplösheter ut i den isande kärleksnervens
                                    sönderstuckna ögontunnel där vi ser våra vanor
                                    inuti, räddningslöst. Att skiljas ut och dräneras
                                    är inget problem,
                                    inte heller döden i lägenheten intill.

 
 

Leif Holmstrand (b. 1972) is writer, poet, visual artist and a musician. His art tends to involve heavy sculptural installations built from garbage, textile and manipulated furniture, sound installations, crochetings, knittings, texts, and video, often all at once. Performance art is also a key part of his work. A lot of the projects are small parts of a much larger, possibly collective, queer activist work. Recent works deal with bugchasing, waste as readable cultural artifacts, sickness, perversion, and death. Holmstrand has published a vast number of books and chapbooks, both via small presses and Bonniers. His two first books were written under the pseudonym Anna-Maria Ytterbom. View more of his work at leifholmstrand.se.