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

poetry

November 2014

Like Rabbits

Bethan Roberts

poetry

November 2014

When my husband unrolled the back door of the brewery’s lorry and hoisted first one cage, then another, onto...

feature

Issue No. 8

The White Review No. 8 Editorial

The Editors

feature

Issue No. 8

The manifesto of art collective Bruce High Quality foundation, the subject of an essay by Legacy Russell in this...

Interview

Issue No. 12

Interview with Yvonne Rainer

Orit Gat

Interview

Issue No. 12

TWO DAYS BEFORE WE WERE SCHEDULED TO MEET, Yvonne Rainer walked into the gallery I was looking after for...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required