When darkness clothes the mysterious, the imagination is prepared; In light which spears erratically across the universe; That its emptiness expands according to the capable eye; Some stars explode to fill the emptiness a little bit; Other constellations are crowned with drifting rocks that were.

From my frost-webbed window I spy a white goshawk alighting a ledge; And it swoops below making the kill, with not a pause or conscious thrill; And in its claws a situationist rat; My window melts from my hastened breath; This is it, another death.

There was a human other humans fashioned into a God; Who had mysteriously left the Earth under an illusion; Somehow reincarnated, he returned to Earth in Glam; And with his Music the kids of the World rejoiced; Loving Him as an Entertainer, one who resonated with them.

And facial recognition technology found them surgically related; Their lips puffed like bucolic ducks; And their noses perfectly grooved; Their healthy cheeks forever rouged; Their faces smooth with not a wrinkle in sight; Glowing together on a wide screen elevated; And they hugged and took a selfie or two at the airport boarding a plane; To find they were on the same flight; To see their beloved surgeon in Thailand; Who specializes in feelings of inadequacy; Peering into each other at the surgery as they wait; For no surgically altered person is an island.