« Giving Up | Main | A Reminder »
This morning, along with other distressing news, I hear that Árni Ibsen, a steady light on the PoetryEtc list, collapsed with a brain hemorrhage on Tuesday.
It is a cold, grey morning.
And it is filled with waxwings.
| |
|
You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.
As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.
Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.
Your Information
(Name is required. Email address will not be displayed with the comment.)
Some Rights Reserved
Wow, I'm so sorry. He sounded like a prolific, talented writer. He is not related by any chance to THAT Ibsen, is he? What a loss to the literary world. There are never enough playwrites or poets, in my opinion. Going in an untimely manner like this makes the loss even more tragic.
Posted by: Kate S. | 03 November 2004 at 07:18 PM
Light a candle for him; he's not done yet. In a coma, but still here, somewhere, we're told . . .
Posted by: SB | 03 November 2004 at 07:21 PM