--and a poem called "A Night with A Thousand Shores"--
about, basically, I guess what many of us--
what goes through our minds every day as we watch the news.
I suffocate every morning.
The smoke eloping from the windows of newspapers.
The world burns inside.
Blackened faces gaze at me as if I am a mute mirror.
Piles of human coal with photographers
toiling to extract it from the heart of every moment,
to upload it on digital chariots rushing to distant satellites,
roaming the darkness like hungry wolves, burdening the night
as they drop their darkness onto our screens.
And I said before, one of these screens--
death, in all languages.
The Tower of Babel has disintegrated into a shore
littered with corpses.
My body is a tired boat.
Silence is its mast.
I turn the channels, and corpses toss and turn.
And when the other shore of this night appears,
I see the gods of the underworld on their thrones.
I unload my cargo--
boats as far as the eye can see, tired men and women.
In the morning, I mend my nets, and start again.