they blow themselves up with pettiness
as if they were swaying with drink
for such gentlemen what
is the sunset or the sunrise?
They swallow emptiness,
these readers of newspapers
Look, friends much
stronger than in these lines, do
I think this, when with
a manuscript in hand
I stand before the face
there is no emptier place
than before the absent
face of an editor of news
papers’ evil filth