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 walki