share


The Cinematographer, a 42-year-old man named Miyagawa, aimed his camera directly at the sun, which at first probably seemed like a bad idea

Last night Kurosawa’s woodcutter

strode through the forest, his axe

on his shoulder. Intense sunlight

stabbed and sparkled and

was generally dazzling.

 

A few centuries later, in a hundred

different coffeehouses, another man

had his big black art glasses on.

It almost looked like there were no

lenses in them.


ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

is an American poet from Livingston, Montana. He is the author of Can You Relax in My House, Yes, Master, and Thin Kimono.

READ NEXT

fiction

April 2014

by Accident

David Isaacs

fiction

April 2014

[To be read aloud]   I want to begin – and I hope I don’t come across as autistic...

Art

Issue No. 14

Lenin was a Mushroom

Thomas Dylan Eaton

Art

Issue No. 14

Cast as the ‘savage, ugly’ part in the Popular Mechanics live show, Necrorealists were radical artists in their own...

poetry

May 2014

Rain on the Roof (to James Schuyler)

David Andrew

poetry

May 2014

Degrees of distance Who all died at different dates, known to each other: not just in the human race...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required