He looks down to watch the river twist
Like a dead vein into the suburbs.
From his height it is all flat, stone-grey
And ugly. He knows he himself is hideous,
Sterile, the artist’s pleasantry set up
To scare off devils. He knows nothing.
He is stunning in his pure impossibility.
Enough cherry trees blossom along the river.
Enough paired lovers gaze through the pink air.
Drab birds, disguised as money, sing prettily
And the sun blinds itself in the water.
He hears laughter. He knows nothing.
When the lovers glance up, they take him in.
Their looks are incidental, monumental, sweeping.

— by Thomas Rabbitt from The Booth Interstate (Knopf, 1981)
The picture is of a gargoyle from Notre Dame in Paris.

4 thoughts on “Gargoyle

  1. I love your black and white photography. A path leading up a hill… Where might it go? Beautiful gargoyle photo. The crumbling stonework ages it nicely.

  2. What a great post! They always scare me but also fascinate me at the same time! I took a picture of gargoyle’s in York, looking down at me from the roof of the York Minster 🙂

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