About four or five years ago I had the pleasure of visiting Genoa for a
hectic and sleepless weekend in early February, while my own house up here
was more or less submerged in snow and caught in the harsh arms of a
blizzard. It was a very inspiring mid-winter visit (as any Italian visit),
in spite of its brevity, which prompted several very short and totally
impossible poems. Here's one, written on realizing while on the chilly beach
just south of Genoa that Ezra's home was just beyond the hills. (at the time
I was holding my mobile phone close to the small breaking waves for my wife
to hear at home)...
RAPALLO BEYOND THE HILL
stone's throw
nearly
from yr past
present my yoke
Best
Árni
--
Árni Ibsen
Stekkjarkinn 19,
220 Hafnarfjördur,
Iceland
tel.: +354-555-3991
e-mail: [log in to unmask]
http://www.centrum.is/~aibsen/
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