Cumin to the End

[This is a new poem which will be published soon in a new collection. But it’s sort of a MOOT POINT because I didn’t sell many of the old poems. So it’s a little silly to write new ones.]

This scoff of life is a sorrow scarf worn
for good-luck on battlefields, yet bombs

of gaffaw fall on these
picnic fields, and perhaps

strategy dogs are to be
scarfed down until
a chili post mortem in haste
could be a laugh in jest
opus citatum tomorrow

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