Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Endless Nights of November




Endless Nights of November


I spoke of dead bodies
under endless November nights
and I waited
but nothing happened.

I fled without realizing I fled,
dates near and far              written on water
I swallowed in small sips.

Below, a finger, tense, severe,
pointing at me from the sea
like a domesticated circus bear.
I left everything I knew as mine.
Days past became shock waves,
forms of gloom the future dawns.

I’ve seen you look at me
five hundred times,
but look at me again           upright
against noon clarity. I’m not a visitor
from the world, 

I am the world!
I am the north wind tarnished
after battering bowed heads
of people populated by darkness
and death. The lamp’s fire
is no more beautiful
than the light of a bonfire.

I’ve seen thousands of men
dumped in a single grave,
and flowers blooming
on that grave, and rain,
and boats in the distance,
then a desolate, gloomy wasteland
and someone walking backwards forever.

I’ve seen this and kept silent.
Now my lips kiss without love.
They know a vastness
where cliff and sky
are not any different.


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