My own thing is this very empty space,
Since nobody has claimed this as own
Like the dog on the leash claiming his ,
Shouting at a tree’s silences in corners.
The cricket claims his own in the bush
And around a forgot house on the lake,
Now a grand view of buzz- mosquitoes.
A poet is buzz- creature who owns all
The piece of unreal estate at midnight.
Broken verse is his document of title.