Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Saint Peter's.

Saint Peter's is a nipple in the Roman skyline.

World Champions: 2006-2007

In San Ginignano one can find a gelateria with a bright neon sign. This is the home of the world champions of gelato for 2006-2007. They are also a member of team Italy. I suggest you pay them a visit. I also recommend getting the large with four scoops. Try chocolate, pistachio, mango, and white chocolate, and watch words slip away to be lost amid snowfields of cold, smooth gelato that swirls like an unruly vector field in your mouth.

When Scabia Invades.

Our landlady is a worried woman. She worries about the washing machine, she worries about us plugging the drains, but mostly she worries about "scabia". "Scabia" is some sort of skin parasite that can be found on pigeons. She saw that one of my roommates had hung his shirt outside the window to dry. Apparently this is a dangerous place because "scabia" might fall on it from the pigeons. She became very agitated when discussing "scabia".

Notes from Orvieto.

To the South there are hills with forest. The forest creeps down out of the hills. In the center of the valley are the pink and orange buildings of houses and the tram station.

The church of San Giovenale is austere inside. Its frescoes are mostly broken with only the face of Christ present in one, as if time were hesitant to break that. In another only the feet of some unknown person can be seen.

There are a multitude of honey bees here.

There are also feathers, flocks of feathers falling down from the sky.

And We Were Bombarded With Shells Of Water All The Rest Of The Day.

It rained during my meeting. The water collected in the folds of the umbrella above where we sat. These pools would grow larger, sagging down like a diseased beast until they burst and water shot down upon some random location. These sporadic attacks continued for the duration of the twenty minutes.

What a thing it is to speak of poetry while liters of water explode around one.

Rice #2

There are patches of rice in Rome also. Perhaps they feed the pigeons.

A Melancholy Light.

The light was sad, filtering through the windows of the Rome Center apartment. Reds, yellows fade away as the rain clouds pass over the sky. Inside the apartment all becomes blue. I venture outside and find a different city than I had previously known. This is a blue city and a gray city. The people on the streets have changed as well. I move quickly through the awkward shadows, through the light so dim that it makes you squint. This is not darkness but dimness.