I wanted to write
of the
transience
of things
of smiles
fading
of
faded
photographs
piled and
dusty
summer
evenings
of
shadows
dying in
still pools
and the
flash-bulbs of
cameras
winking
but
the ocean
pulling
outward
perhaps
the ocean
and
lights the
lights
the
lights the
breathing
white
air
and the
lighthouse
winking
to
the
stars all
lights the
water
shining
lights the
lights and
cameras
turning
to
eternity
perhaps
this sea
eternity
perhaps
this
sea
is
TRUMAN CAPOTE, The Paris Review, spring-summer 1957
(via immortal070290)
(Source: sparrow52)
Monza, Lombardy, Italy (by baronerosso1)
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table -” T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
Tomorrow – you know –
Burns like fire
Turning wheels
In dead eyes
Searching searching
Emerald oceans and
Lonely isles
Infinitudes those
Half-moons shining
Strung up in water
In the wind whirling
Don’t you wish
That the world – don’t you –
That it burned like this –
