by Felix Fojas


The universe and nature speak

To us each moment of our lives

In subtle nuances and fine shades

Of unmeaning but most of us

Have a surfeit of self-conceit to hear

Such silent and wordless messages


Within us and all around us,

Blinking like a legion of invisible

Neon signs that oracle what are

About to transpire in the world

In general, and to each one of us

In particular. Consider the fact


That as soon as I step out of this

Creaking battered door a maple

Leaf, burnished red and gold

With autumn, pirouettes in the air

And gently lands at the tip of my

Black, shiny patent-leather left shoe.


Why did the leaf fall where it fell

And not on my chipped right shoulder?

There is an ominous tongue wagging

In that mantic moment whose idioms

I must decipher. I must observe

Other cryptic two-liners nestled


In Life’s misfortune cookies.

Why is there this sudden flight

Of cantankerous sea-gulls across

An overcast gunmetal sky?

What does that wet smell of loam,

Or that crawling arachnid portend?


I always play Truth or Consequence,

I am a keen reader of omens.

I must be privy to what exactly is

About to happen and unhappen

As I walk grudgingly towards

The center stage of my banal ways.


Los Angeles

March 29, 2012