April 2014

Travellers who set out for new horizons,
carrying with them the flame of time
These knights of rebellion and armies of revolution
Have their feet on the ground, their sights on the sky
Arise, and join these wanderers
For whom time is the dust that blurs their path.

Quoted in Kaifi and I, by Shaukat Kaifi


What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well.

Far from the Rappahannock, the silent
Danube moves along toward the sea.
The brown and green Nile rolls slowly
Like the Niagara's welling descent.
Tractors stood on the green banks of the Loire
Near where it joined the Cher.
The St. Lawrence prods among black stones
And mud. But the Arno is all stones.


Green sea-tarnished copper
And sea-tarnished gold
Of cupolas.

Sea-runnelled streets
Channelled by salt air
That wears the white stone.

The sunlight-filled cistern
Of a dry-dock. Square shadows.
Sun-slatted smoke above meticulous stooping of cranes.

Water pressed up by ships’ prows
Going, coming.

City dust turned
Back by the sea-wind’s