WEBVTT

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--and a poem called "A Night
with A Thousand Shores"--

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about, basically, I
guess what many of us--

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what goes through our minds
every day as we watch the news.

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I suffocate every morning.

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The smoke eloping from
the windows of newspapers.

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The world burns inside.

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Blackened faces gaze at me
as if I am a mute mirror.

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Piles of human coal
with photographers

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toiling to extract it from
the heart of every moment,

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to upload it on digital chariots
rushing to distant satellites,

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roaming the darkness like hungry
wolves, burdening the night

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as they drop their
darkness onto our screens.

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And I said before,
one of these screens--

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death, in all languages.

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The Tower of Babel has
disintegrated into a shore

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littered with corpses.

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My body is a tired boat.

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Silence is its mast.

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I turn the channels, and
corpses toss and turn.

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And when the other shore
of this night appears,

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I see the gods of the
underworld on their thrones.

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I unload my cargo--

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boats as far as the eye can
see, tired men and women.

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In the morning, I mend
my nets, and start again.

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