we are:
killing,
eating,
*******,
*** machines,
and given free time,
will awe stare a mirror
and repeat "I", "I","I"
in the name of God.

Should you ever need
a dust jacket blurb
I'll genulexitize, "ise" if you're British,
your opus work
(sans the redundancy).

A chimera ground
of profound sadness
enframes a deep field of arabesque red
split in two,
as Salomon would,
by a thick bleeding bar of black 'n blue remorse.

It's 9:30 p.m.
and the CSX train Jericho blows
its Doppler horn
across the black flow
of the Cumberland River
skimming  the rafts of rippling light
lapping the west bank of early revelers
gathering  in the streets and bars and ***** tonks,
spun together by an invisible attractor they're calling
"Happy New Year."

I find
you
once again
sleeping on my bed,
you slinky black self satisfied *****.

Is there a there a secret room
where, like missing socks,
unsaid words sneak off to rest?

Mice are endlessly studied
blindly piloting channeled maze,
but who among us
is not doing the very same?