Roses, near Castelvetrano
sometimes I hear you playing the piano
the clear notes in the air like voices
the colors clear as a vase of Sicilian roses
for true, it's not an illusion
I know
its not as in a dream
for in a dream I know
the humming notes in the air are
not roses
but echoes begging
vanishing
no, when I hear your piano notes
out of the Yamaha
with the phones plugged in
the phones encasing your ears
I know what you play
even if I am rooms away
I know
Sicilian roses
22.06.11
The eternal agave.
One of the first things that we wanted to do was take a walk down to the sea, which was less than a kilometer away. An easy stroll down a country lane, right? Wrong. Direct access to the sea was not, we quickly figured out, ever an option on Sicily. Mancuso, in fact, insisted on drawing us a map of how to negotiate the crisscrossing paths and roads all around his fenced compound. At first Mancuso's insistence caused us to wonder if the outing we had in mind might be more complicated than we had anticipated. Isn't a walk down deserted farm roads pretty simple? Mancuso swore that it was. You get lost, Just refer to the map.
In the region where we were spending our first days on Sicily, the west coast, farmland can be cultivated right down to the strip of coarse sand and agave thickets that border the sea. With a pair of sharp binoculars, you might even be able to see Tunisia or Libya (well, if you had a tall enough ladder).
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