Holland, they say …

The soil was marshy. We sang about the lush green grass. What did we know? One island further on as proof of this the Biesbosch lay. Mudflats and silt were closer still. I never went there. I sat in the class, sung of a land that lay almost beneath the waves. At ebb my brother…

Winter Landscape

In vain I raise eyes that are closed to see; I find the landscape now enclosing me that before the dawn loomed cold in my mind’s eye: a man’s last bike-ride into fenland snow in search of silence like an embryo, breath-clouds condensed around his mouth as he went by. Winter, resembling Dutch School scenery.…

The Last Ferry

A clock strikes on the other side. It’s late. No need to count, you know the chimes by heart. The years go by, you think, just as well without. This far there was a road. Then the road ran out: the Dordtse Kil, the Rhine, the Nile, the Lethe. The setting is dissolved in waiting…