If Christmas were given
the same gaze as Yom Kippur,
there would be riotous, careful,
false-faced diligence in the streets
of every Capital; silent prayers of
meditation mediation senseless acts
of kindness from a root of sterile fear
as if to offend Christianity would bring
about a Talibani death-wrath if-and-when
affronted-- but Christmas and Christ have
been so transparent as to become tested
combinations on the invisible lock of human
desire everyone eventually frustrated at the failure
of probable-consistent guess as to turn to Freudian
psychology for answer in lieu of Christ's final revelation
numerical in nature-- numerical strangeness Da Vinci Code
impossible-- as all other religions keep their yaps shut whilst
all Christianity has left is the little grey Luoyang City safe--
we've all given up and assumed it's empty-- empty like the
universe, maybe.

voices, mirror glance inward-outward
-inward-outward-inanoutandinward
in simultaneous disease-like passion--
divine like bacteria kneading and bleep
-ing up to one to one against to one toward
a unity, a collective evolutionary force begin
-ning in a marshy wallow-- forward to a creature
slithers rocks unsure if fish or finger-- beyond unto
a sharp-claw carnivorous terror (the Divine Right of
Kings) and slowly, in the wake of the destruction the
shattered continental plate lifted like a carpet during
renovation violence, the bacteria stayed away and
under soiled-earth to slowly form toward the muddy
saliva of a strangely-fit mouse-rat....

through the dissipating wake of molten mist, a
sabertooth tiger yawns with a growled-tremor
and an after-bath shake-- ends a trampled scrap
under mammoth foot having indicted this panic
in its desperate mammalian hunger-- this bacteria,
kneading and bleeping, continues its one to one
against to one as a meaty slab metabolized by
opportunistic caveman feeding his cubs and his
loves before courage became the theoretical pond
-ering of Voltaire's and Descartes's and Camus's...