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I came here shackled
but still in cashmere, leaving
my smashed big-screen, lamps

now, Abraham and
I smoke cigars by street-light
and the neon sign

by day, we watch a
world whirling with wild hubris,
madness never named

what they want in truth
is machine-souled men: precise,
mind-less, profitable

and in collective,
they get what they want: never
the same way again


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The following comments are for "Ashland Motel haiku set"
by seanspacey





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