Stone

From time to time, poetry is taken away from me.
I look at the stone and I see a stone.
And nothing flies around me and nothing flies back
from places I don't know!
(But I heard about it, I saw images and gestures.)

Sometimes my verb becomes a noun and
nothing can describe it!
There is no coherence in what is said, what is spoken
in an absolutely forgotten moment!

I look at the stone and I see a stone.
I look at the stone and I see a stone.
I look at the stone and I see a stone.

And nothing flies around me
and nothing flies back.

The ghosts sleep in the folds of the curtain...


PAR