Rimbaud 2000

Like antelope bounding across
the wide lawns of Africa
are these flames that leap
from khaki hill to hill,
scouring the brittle grass,
devouring the living velveteen
to leave only the pure dirt
of character, and like that fire
are the smoke and syringes,
the glugging bottle and loose tongue
that flense the poet's soul, expose
the shivering bony claw,
and like that hungry skeleton