Arabian winter, a star called Tantoura, Aramaic graffiti undulates with ancient testaments: I was here. Now I'm gone. Strange how this soft wind becomes sharp, shears sandstone, blasts mountains into fragments. Camel's teeth, birds' wings; iron pegs turning, secure. Supple earth, gentle fronds of palms swell and thrive. How many cities lie beneath us, here?…
copyright 2020 Under the Veil Taif | الطائف Grey-haired apes latch onto mountain- tops, climb through tenacious fog. Out-of-season Ferris wheels push through ancient stone in tangerine, fuchsia: here, a strange garden blooms before Taif. Lofty rosa damascena permeate through thick-bellied clouds, we pass through mountain veil, to roadside fruit market, rosewater distillery: heavy pomegranates…
Under the Veil 