I am lost in the corner
of a lifetime
no atlas, no body
a floater
imagine a horse in the sun
running white with bold flanks
perspiring rivulets of jazz licks
rippling with grammar
an entomology lost to time
Cleopatra could not have done better
we’re all prospectors
dreaming of time
in the shadows of dreams
dreamt by others who have no idea
how hungrily we devour their entrails