not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Monday, January 28, 2013

the grand Italian churches and the stones of Kyoto

Burning (Andante non troppo)

By Jack Gilbert

We are all burning in time, but each is consumed
at his own speed. Each is the product
of his spirit’s refraction, of the inflection
of that mind. It is the pace of our living
that makes the world available. Regardless of
the body’s lion-wrath, or forest waiting, despite
the mind’s splendid appetite or the sad power
in our soul’s separation from God and women,
it is always our gait of being that decides
how much is seen, what the mystery of us knows,
and what the heart will smell of the landscape
as the Mexican train continues at a dog-trot each
day going north. The grand Italian churches are
covered with detail which is visible at the pace
people walk by. The great modern buildings are
blank because there is no time to see from the car.
A thousand years ago when they built the gardens
of Kyoto, the stones were set in the streams askew.
Whoever went quickly would fall in. When we slow,
the garden can choose what we notice. Can change
our heart. On the wall of a toilet in Rock Springs
years ago there was a dispenser that sold tubes of
cream to numb a man’s genitals. Called Linger.


  1. Hello!
    Interesting blog. Welcome to
    :) Take care!

  2. Ces griffures du temps ne sont visibles que par les initiés. Voyages les yeux grands ouverts n'est pas donné à tout le monde. Ce sont les détails qui constituent le monde et la brindille participe à son équilibre. Les hommes bêlant en troupeau négligent la beauté naturelle des chose et participent à la course effrénée à la consommation. Tes photos témoignent d'un autre monde, proche et ami du vent.
    Belle soirée, Erin
    P.S. J'ai répondu à ton commentaire sur mon blog, à l'instant

  3. I love Gilbert, I love your white minimalism, I love the shadows, I feel lucky that this page has appeared into my world.


"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))