Madhat Kakei
Exhibitions Work
Text by: Olle Granath Daniel Birnbaum Noi Sawaragi Mats B Adonis Niclas Östlind Thomas Tranströmer


Birds have fallen silent

The cloud, atilt, above us

Cold raindrops fall

In the forest


Murderers voices

stitched firm to banners

blowing in an

endless breeze


Here houses bear no masks

Forest windows open


to an hotel room

full of love


In our consciousness

are rooms

to which we`re led



One night was moonlit

but no more

for sunken deep

as arid imprints

in steps of stone

like an orthicone

I stopped

asudden in the street

to open with a gritty

glistening moonlit key

the doors of