chandler collins: on dreaming [poem]

dreams don’t slip away
they run.
like those nihonjin marathon boys
with their taut parchment skin
marinated in effort and
stretched over whippet bones
as they run towards the brink of extinction
away from millennia of accumulated shame
from the spectre of burakumin
the outcast, gaijin
cast as “fool”
in his non-stop play
“all the world’s [his] stage”

i want to run
to the brink of extinguishing
and i would
if only i could
find a spark
then surely i would.