Home » Nonfiction » Floran Cazeau » WILD NIGHT

May 24 , 2008



I had not gone anywhere, while still being at the same corner of the great boulevard observing life in its colors, its good or annoying notes, and its rhythm. I’m still in the same convoy of the living and the dead, looking at me and observing you at the same time, without any of us perceiving each other in this dull tumult that engorges us and hypnotizes us. I greet you all, and I come back with the same smile and another bunch of poems that is none other than notes of joy, sorrow, and love that sound and resound in our daily life. In any case, these notes do not rhyme with your taste or please your whim. I apologize because I did not invent them, as they fall naturally within the scope of my poetic contemplation. They come to me, and it is my duty to host them and distribute them all, in their folly and naive naturalism. As always I do not force you, but I invite you to read this book and find the notes that resemble you or remind you of a life, living experience, even a friend or forgotten memories.

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