Tag Archives: Nostradamus

Crystal Ball

For those who didn’t finish seer school,
here, let me predict the future for you:
this poem is about life or maybe
it’s about love or at least it is most
likely about growing old and knowing
what the future will hold and this poem
sometimes rhymes because it has to have a
bit of that sort of thing or else it’s not
an official poem a sanctioned work
of art and oh this poem is about
death duh and probably sex or wanting
sex or whatever it is one does with
sex during the fallow times and oh yeah
this poem is all about frustration.

I Miss You Terribly

It’s true, I’m terrible at missing you.
So bad, in fact, that I’ve been asked to leave

for fear of contagious terribleness,
as if protracted apathy could be

a deadly new emotional disease.
It is believed by those who know such things

that my lack of general interest
in the business of missing you proves

the existence of corrosive nodes, or
at the very least blackened valves through which

no blood can flow, though doctors hold high hopes
that exploration of the dark places

may yet reveal a temporary cure,
so I might miss you terribly no more.