A Dying Star
The large cigarette burn i n the sky
Scorches an unforgiving landscape,
Aging the ideas of mankind.
This corpuscle of bubbling pus
Cloaks the world with its runny yoke,
Which stains a blue plate.
Breakfast -
Sustains a gluttonous body,
And warms the vast belly
Of ice tundra and desert sand
Which bathe in the ashen grains of time,
Until the fire dies,
And its light stubbed out in an ashtray,
By a little, geriatric man
Who has puffed away at our dreams.
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