Apocalyptic Poem by Artchil Daug

Early in the evening
in the minuscule gaze
of fainted stars, overlooking
the deserted part
of a wilderness surrounding
roving garbage dumps, parked
just outside an old bookshop,
filled surprisingly with people,
the heavy air of civilization
turned into the glaring heat
of the sun, producing
a mirage of intelligence, as I
looked outside from the empty street,
standing, contemplating,
the end of the world.