What Looked Like Morning Was The Beginning

I Get Cassettes Near Academy Award Time Of Every Movie That's Made That Thinks It Has Some Kind Of Chance For A Nomination - That's When I Watch My Movies

Like The Brief Doomed Flare Of Exploding Suns That Registers Dimly On Blind Men's Eyes, The Beginning Of The Horror Passed Almost Unnoticed; In The Shriek Of What Followed, In Fact, Was Forgotten And Perhaps Not Connected To The Horror At All.

What Looked Like Morning Was The Beginning Of Endless Night

We Mourn The Blossoms Of May Because They Are To Whither; But We Know That May Is One Day To Have Its Revenge Upon November, By The Revolution Of That Solemn Circle Which Never Stops - Which Teaches Us In Our Height Of Hope, Ever To Be Sober, And In Our Depth Of Desolation, Never To Despair.

From The Cab Stepped A Tall Old Man. Black Raincoat And Hat And A Battered Valise. He Paid The Driver, Then Turned And Stood Motionless, Staring At The House. The Cab Pulled Away And Rounded The Corner Of Thirty-sixty Street. Kinderman Quickly Pulled Out To Follow. As He Turned The Corner, He Noticed That The Tall Old Man Hadn't Moved But Was Standing Under The Streetlight Glow, In Mist, Like A Melancholy Traveler Frozen In Time.