Auguries 3


I harvest signs,

glean among wispy omens,

scavenge in pyramids and middens

aching to unwrap the unknown,

reveal the secret names,

unfold the silence.


I am nothing if not voracious for the real.


Auguries reflect

our faces

fragmented in store windows.

Barely recognizable.

Blurred and staring masks



Oh and then there was the black scarf

blown into my patio by a February storm,

winding itself around the bare branches

of the Japanese Maple


the small stone Buddha.


I wake each day to miracles.



she says,

she has nothing to say.


Poem and photo by clinock



12 thoughts on “Auguries 3

  1. Your poetry, John, melds and meanders magically, seductively with form and substance. Words dance, thoughtfully looking under, over and through, gently poking and humorously prodding for meaning and possible relationship. I wish sometimes I had “John Glasses” I could wear to see the world!


    1. And I wish I had a Jana pen so I could write as beautifully as you about the world I see. I thank you for your generous and poetic description of my writing. Sometimes I need to read it at a distance, through another’s eyes, like looking at a painting in a mirror while I work, to understand what I’m doing, to break the trance…

      Liked by 1 person

  2. “I am nothing if not voracious for the real.” What wonderful line! This is a beautifully written piece, and i love the way you express yourself. You do have something to say!


  3. John this is wonderful. I’m so struck by the rhythm of ‘scavenge in pyramids…’ to ‘I am nothing if not voracious for the real…’ to ‘oh and then there was the black scarf…’ and of course ‘her’ final quote.
    Love these images and the feel of the poem.
    What an omen or augury that black scarf seems to be! Fascinating to hinge a poem around this event. Full of meaning(s).


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