Saturday


Stone is not stone


There was a time when stone was stone 
And a face on the street was a finished face. 
Between the Thing, myself and God alone 
There was an instant symmetry. 
Since you have altered all my world this trinity is twisted: 
Stone is not stone 
And faces like the fractioned characters in dreams are incomplete 
Until in the child's inchoate face 
I recognize your exiled eyes. 
The soldier climbs the glaring stair leaving your shadow. 
Tonight, this torn room sleeps 
Beneath the starlight bent by you.




Carson Mccullers

Wednesday

what i really want is not to want so much
not to want impossible things, 
that probably are the only ones that deserve to be wanted

Sunday