Having seen all that it touched,
I see why they call it withering
Piet’s house
Windmill on the A2
Blades on trucks
on the freeway at night
gliding will turn
but never in flight
Candle
I’ll lie
before it a bit.
I need
the comfort of it.
Stairway
Garage at Arnhem station
Over the river, through the wood
Death shadows us
This pouring down
Every drop is a way back up
State of affairs
Falling through
Utrecht Journal 