Statistics of a Nihilist








The post delivered only one Christmas card this year. Not that it matters.

I received three phone calls from friends this year. Not that it matters.

Nothing I write has any consequence. The world carries on as before. 

However, I have given everything to everyone else.


Silent Country

On the wall opposite my bungalow

a blue advert drips on a stationary boat.


The sea is far away, overcrowded.


The acid rain dissolved the bold letters

which used to show my direction.


I have no choice but to stay vigil

behind this lighthouse

waiting for another explosion.


Do you see what I see?

We arrived, at last, at a dead end

a few souls making plans at a bus stop.

All that talking led us cattle to slaughter.