I don’t really know what to tell you
about Granada’s illustrious Alhambra Palace.
Washington Irving's had a chokehold on that since way back.
I mean, sure, at sundown, viewed from across the ravine,
She looks every inch the triumphal pearl
set amongst Nasrid diamonds.
But by daylight, She becomes
obscured by the rugby scrum.
And for me, there’s really only
so long you can stand
looking at ruins
whilst feigning a genuine interest
in Almohad sebkas or Almoravid palms.
Does that make me a Philistine?
Saturday, March 29, 2008
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