Talking with Caspar ...

The beautiful car crossed the border - 

The small towns were nests of memory - 

Dark steeples rose up from murmured prayers to a flawless sky - 

Pine forests gave way to fields of ripening wheat - 

I heard the slow heartbeat of the car - 

We drove south to the city of martyrs - 

There we walked in the shade of noble buildings - 

Statues with serene faces lined reefs of pinnacled stone - 

Students gathered in the ancient university - 

The white interiors of the churches were cool and full of gentle light - 

I talked with Caspar in a pavement cafe - 

In Moscow he said - people play music and dance in the parks - 

Baku smells of dust and oil - 

In Petersburg you walk without a map - 

You walk from square to square, finding beauty next to ugliness - 

12.22

Thursday 25 August 2016

Louvain 

Belgium