Stavanger Sketches
1.
Dismas and Gestas
stare at the swords
and wonder if anyone
remembers them.
2.
Haar drapes the cobbles
stone work shimmering
under it’s glister.
From the tunnel between
the gamle and the new,
cars pass, throwing light
and shadow, illuminating
mist into momentary
God-rays and for an instant
I am transported
to Vienna as the ghost
of Harry Lime.
3.
I wanted to write a poem
about Harald Fairhair
and The Battle of Hafrsfjord,
but Snorri Sturlsson beat me
to it by over a millennium
and he tells it better anyway.
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