Three Poems

Fables of the Sacred Heart (1) Those were days of cycling in the mountains. Of climbing, descending. Of enormous hunger for more and as long as they blocked the peak’s virginity from view in their groaning scent of resin, pine trees acted out this problem to excess. But above the treeline you feel free. Trundling…

A Total Eclipse of the Heart

About Dirk van Bastelaere It is one of the pillars of Dirk van Bastelaere’s poetry – and a crucially ironic one, I believe – that a poem is never self-evident. The same could probably be said of everyone, except for the odd dishevelled poetaster here and there, but I’m not talking about technical difficulties in…