Tuesday Poem: Stone is not Stone by Carson McCullers
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.
This just happens to be one of my favourite poems, so I’m very happy to post it on the blog…so busy though so I won’t be able to post anything of my own for awhile..
Other poems posted on a Tuesday by poets from NZ and overseas can be found here
I did differed from I do differed from I can’t. I couldn’t then as now make anyone happy. We all more or less were bleeding. Which differed from blood on all our hands. Held behind our backs, varying reasons blooming each their own stern logic. Time passed, returned, flirted with seconds as it watched the days. And you watched, didn’t you, everything, from the first illicit wink.
Seeing the face of Miss Rim Ch’un-aeng, triple gold-medallist at the Asian Games, shining from the TV screen, her expression seems so very familiar.
After long rummaging through my memories I recall Modigliani’s ‘Portrait of a Woman’ pinned on the wall of my boarding-house room when I was studying in Tokyo in my early 20s.
At the time I admired and loved that haggard-looking face so much I even bragged to my friends I would marry a woman like that.
In the end, I couldn’t meet any such girl and I got married to my rather more cozy wife, and now, after forty-two years have gone by, at last just such a girl has appeared…..
Well, they say that Goethe when he was 70 fell passionately in love with a girl of 18? And Henry Miller, who survived until last year, is supposed to have sent telegrams of courtship at the age of 70, too?
But me? Well, that’s another matter!
Judging by the mirror today of all days my grey hair and my grey beard look whiter than ever.
“Compare the opinion of anthropologist Edmund Leach who suggested ‘we are so deeply committed to being alone in a crowded world that we turn the whole problem back to front: we worry about privacy rather than loneliness,’ in M Weinstein, ‘The Uses of Privacy in the Good Life’, in R Wacks (ed) Privacy (vol 1, 1993) 349.”—Ah, school life, teaching me everything I need to know about being human..