The Remembrance of Things 1990s
Sometimes, when
my memory wanders off to Jutland
into some house interior
of the 1990s
or a piece of clothing
from the same period
I shudder more
than when I think of crouching
in damp basements
during ferocious bombardments.
The Minarets
I grew up in a town
with a single mosque
and the same voice always
called to prayer, but
in the Marrakesh medina
thick as it is with minarets,
you sometimes hear three
and four muezzins cry together
in a kind of dilapidated fugue,
and you notice
that some of these men
are full of passionate music
while others pain your ears.
The Sand Man
Some nights ago
in the Moroccan desert
I saw a man stride
empty-handed
among the dunes
like Herzog’s penguin
with singular intent
and what looked like zero doubt
as to where he was
going.
Image © r2hox