A Quiet Skin
(by Laurie Sheck)

Thinking has a quiet skin. But I feel the break and fled of things inside it.
    Blue hills most gentle in calm light, then stretches of assail
And ransack. Such tangles of charred wreckage, shrapnel-bitsSingling and singeing where they fall. I feel the stumbling gait of what I am,
The quiet uproar of undone, how to be hidden is a tempting, violent thing—Each thought breaking always in another.

All the unlawful elsewheres rushing in.

(Fog in Montepulciano; iphone 5)

A Quiet Skin
(by Laurie Sheck)

Thinking has a quiet skin. But I feel the break and fled of things inside it.
Blue hills most gentle in calm light, then stretches of assail
And ransack. Such tangles of charred wreckage, shrapnel-bits

Singling and singeing where they fall. I feel the stumbling gait of what I am,
The quiet uproar of undone, how to be hidden is a tempting, violent thing

Each thought breaking always in another.

All the unlawful elsewheres rushing in.

(Fog in Montepulciano; iphone 5)

“I am proud only of those days that pass in
undivided tenderness.” 
― Robert Bly, A Little Book on the Human Shadow

“I am proud only of those days that pass in
undivided tenderness.”
― Robert Bly, A Little Book on the Human Shadow

"Old people, who have felt blows and toil and known the world’s hard hand, need, even more than children do, a woman’s tenderness.” 
― Willa Cather, Death Comes for the Archbishop

(Roadside shrine; Umbria; iPhone 5)

"Old people, who have felt blows and toil and known the world’s hard hand, need, even more than children do, a woman’s tenderness.”
― Willa Cather, Death Comes for the Archbishop

(Roadside shrine; Umbria; iPhone 5)

“Life is what you celebrate. All of it.”
― Joanne Harris, Chocolat


(Wedding celebration, Pienza; iPhone 5)

“Life is what you celebrate. All of it.”
― Joanne Harris, Chocolat


(Wedding celebration, Pienza; iPhone 5)

“Reclaiming the sacred in our lives naturally brings us close once more to the wellsprings of poetry.” 
― Robert Bly

(Viano, Italy; Chiesa de Assissi; iPhone 5)

“Reclaiming the sacred in our lives naturally brings us close once more to the wellsprings of poetry.”
― Robert Bly

(Viano, Italy; Chiesa de Assissi; iPhone 5)

“the late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood …” 
― Stephen King

(Pienza, Tuscany; iPhone 5)

“the late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood …”
― Stephen King

(Pienza, Tuscany; iPhone 5)

“Old empty chairs are not empty in reality; memories always sit there!” 
― Mehmet Murat ildan

(Pienza, Tuscany; iPhone 5)

“Old empty chairs are not empty in reality; memories always sit there!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

(Pienza, Tuscany; iPhone 5)

"Why it’s simply impassible!"
Alice: “Why, don’t you mean impossible?”
Door: “No, I do mean impassible. (chuckles) Nothing’s impossible!”

- Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

(Alleyway door and detail; Montepulciano; iphone 5)

Passion for Solitude
BY CESARE PAVESE
TRANSLATED BY GEOFFREY BROCK

I’m eating a little supper by the bright window.
The room’s already dark, the sky’s starting to turn.
Outside my door, the quiet roads lead,
after a short walk, to open fields.
I’m eating, watching the sky—who knows
how many women are eating now. My body is calm:
labor dulls all the senses, and dulls women too.

Outside, after supper, the stars will come out to touch
the wide plain of the earth. The stars are alive,
but not worth these cherries, which I’m eating alone.
I look at the sky, know that lights already are shining
among rust-red roofs, noises of people beneath them.
A gulp of my drink, and my body can taste the life
of plants and of rivers. It feels detached from things.
A small dose of silence suffices, and everything’s still,
in its true place, just like my body is still.

All things become islands before my senses,
which accept them as a matter of course: a murmur of silence.
All things in this darkness—I can know all of them,
just as I know that blood flows in my veins.
The plain is a great flowing of water through plants,
a supper of all things. Each plant, and each stone,
lives motionlessly. I hear my food feeding my veins
with each living thing that this plain provides.

The night doesn’t matter. The square patch of sky
whispers all the loud noises to me, and a small star
struggles in emptiness, far from all foods,
from all houses, alien. It isn’t enough for itself,
it needs too many companions. Here in the dark, alone,
my body is calm, it feels it’s in charge.

(Photo: outside the 2nd wall; montepulciano; iPhone 5)

Passion for Solitude
BY CESARE PAVESE
TRANSLATED BY GEOFFREY BROCK

I’m eating a little supper by the bright window.
The room’s already dark, the sky’s starting to turn.
Outside my door, the quiet roads lead,
after a short walk, to open fields.
I’m eating, watching the sky—who knows
how many women are eating now. My body is calm:
labor dulls all the senses, and dulls women too.

Outside, after supper, the stars will come out to touch
the wide plain of the earth. The stars are alive,
but not worth these cherries, which I’m eating alone.
I look at the sky, know that lights already are shining
among rust-red roofs, noises of people beneath them.
A gulp of my drink, and my body can taste the life
of plants and of rivers. It feels detached from things.
A small dose of silence suffices, and everything’s still,
in its true place, just like my body is still.

All things become islands before my senses,
which accept them as a matter of course: a murmur of silence.
All things in this darkness—I can know all of them,
just as I know that blood flows in my veins.
The plain is a great flowing of water through plants,
a supper of all things. Each plant, and each stone,
lives motionlessly. I hear my food feeding my veins
with each living thing that this plain provides.

The night doesn’t matter. The square patch of sky
whispers all the loud noises to me, and a small star
struggles in emptiness, far from all foods,
from all houses, alien. It isn’t enough for itself,
it needs too many companions. Here in the dark, alone,
my body is calm, it feels it’s in charge.

(Photo: outside the 2nd wall; montepulciano; iPhone 5)

It’s true what they say about the light, you know.

(Montepulciano; iPhone 5)

It’s true what they say about the light, you know.

(Montepulciano; iPhone 5)

A serious discussion regarding biblical exegesis takes place outside of Chiesa di St. Augistino. …  Or not …. 

(Montepulciano; iphone 5)

A serious discussion regarding biblical exegesis takes place outside of Chiesa di St. Augistino. … Or not ….

(Montepulciano; iphone 5)

"Love is not consolation. It is light."
― Simone Weil

(Fireside stairs; 9th c. Fortezza; Tuscany; iPhone 5)

"Love is not consolation. It is light."
― Simone Weil

(Fireside stairs; 9th c. Fortezza; Tuscany; iPhone 5)