As ugly ogres masturbate by ear,
the aurochs browse on deerlicks
by the asters. O, the fickle augury
of all my bosh and prosopopoeia!

A has-been rummages the useless
days, the past reduced to artifacts:
wash, grumble, rinse and do it over.
In vaster ambits of a comet’s orbit,

the ash of stardust pulses vacancy.
Language works since tiny wizards
swivel all its gears. And you don’t
even (wanting hazards) live once…