In the gloomy room under the black night
the lantern eats the dark and sprays its bright seeds.
We have million reasons for living and only one
not to be here. But where? And when? And why?
It’s noon and outside the blue sky is still a blue sky and
the birds fill its shape to the point of forgetting.
We came from the ocean and the stars,
but we still grab a rock or a stick to beat our brothers down,
just like the monkeys do.
The TV shows us libraries filled with sleeping beggars
it’s a Nazi week again on the Discovery Channel:
they burn books.
Through the window I see a dead dog. His tail is pointing
right there, exactly where I’m planning to be.