Mette Moestrup
Mette Moestrup is a Danish poet, born in 1969. She had her debut as a poet in 1998 and has written five books of poetry, a novel and two children’s books. Her latest book of poetry To the Most Beautiful. 117 poems was published in 2019. Her work is translated into Swedish, Norwegian, English, Chinese and German, and she has received the Montana Prize, Stiftung Brandenburger Tor Grant, the Aarestrup Medal, the Beatrize Prize, the Danish Arts Foundation’s lifelong Honorary Grant and is a member of the Danish Academy. Additionally, she has received a number of travel grants plus writing residencies at Literarisches Colloquium Berlin, The Tranquebar Project, India, Burg Hüshoff, Center for Literature, Germany, The Danish Institute in Rome, Italy among others. Furthermore, Moestrup has an academic degree from Institute for Comparative Literature in Aarhus, and has published numerous articles, essays, and afterwords. During the years, she has been a teacher at several Scandinavian Author Schools. In addition to writing poetry, Moestrup works with translation, performance, as well as collective and cross aesthetic projects. Moestrup lives in Copenhagen.
some stones are alive
some stones are alive
they dilate
& Contract
dilate
& Contract
dilate
& Contract
dilate
& Contract
some of them have streaks &
spots & signs
that move
disappear
& then reappear
some of the stones
pass through
each other
unhindered
without anything breaking
some of them hover
within those
smaller stones hover
& within those
even smaller ones etc.
& innermost: a powder
that gives off scented sounds
sound scents
as the scents are sounds
& the sounds are scents
*
some stones are alive
they grow on ‘trees’
trees that aren’t trees
due to mimicry
they perfect ‘the apple’
you think you’re picking
apples
but the apples are stones
some stones are alive
furry like mouldy fruits
amazingly soft
at first glance
but they are magnetic &
drawn to hands
hands longing for revenge
open & close
longing after healing
some stones pound
like hearts heavy as stones
sensitive
meteorites
*
some stones are alive
they grow
in waste landscapes
at first they’re small like bullets
& grey
as dust
& out of the blue
they become gigantic
like dictator palaces
unaccustomed to their sudden
violent scale
& power
capricious
in the end
they dissolve
POOF
they dissolve
*
some stones
are alive
they open up
at night
like night-blooming flowers
ultraviolet
radiating melodic
wave motions
in a code
at a frequency
which no human but
everything else alive
can hear & understand
a redistribution
of everything is
inevitable
&
already happening