Looking at an online card catalog
For an obscure part-time seer,
I found instead a book by a juggler
With the very same author’s name,
And I imagined cryptic questions,
Doubts and fears, budding aphorisms,
Flying though the air in oval patterns,
Touching flesh for the merest moment
Before flying back into the hot air
Of some crowded vaudevillian venue,
The clustered metaphysicians frozen
In awe by the gurus and sages
Tumbling through all lives, all time.
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