Even sand can be frozen in time


Why does the hierarchy matter so? Calico adage flows

down from prose addled with salvaged bones and an amber glow

Egyptologist went to school off a Cambridge loan, studying by a lamp at home

What asphyxiated mantra lies beneath the sandy knoll of the Sphinx

which can’t be known through a glyph, since in summertime I fled

Is it justified to call me a necrophiliac if I elect to mummify the dead?