Medium Of Augury

Some will 

Tell you your future 

By reading your palm, 

Others by perusing 

The intricate 

Patterns left in the dregs 

Of a demitasse that has been 

Turned upside-down 

And righted again, still 

Others will insist 

On a close examination 

Of the entrails 

Of some slaughtered 

Hapless animal, but whatever 

Your choice choose wisely, 

And with plenty of foresight,

As you have only one life to lose— 

Don’t waste it. 

 

 

 

 

Well-Addressed Aporia Of The Disenchanted Man

Bah, absolute 

Humbug I say—why 

Do we call it 

 

A brand-new day 

When there’s nothing 

New under the sun,

 

And hand-me-down

Habits continue 

To wear us away?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ossuary Dust

For those grief-stricken 

To the marrow, black is 

 

Never black enough, white 

Has to be washed clean 

 

To the bone, ashes are 

Best left alone. 

 

 

 

 

 

Definitely Not My Cup Of Tea

Get outta here, cupcake! 

Of what use is a slam 

Bang-up ejaculating protesting 

Poet who loves sucking 

Up the limelight but lacks 

The balls to give snow- 

Flakes like us the finger? 

 

 

 

After Seferis

Don’t waste the breath 

That spirit gave you— 

 

Breathe new life into it, 

Then pass it on.