Hell is the eye in ruins. Heaven is the tongue caressed. Darwin's sorrowful ape Stood erect, the imperial shape 5 Deigning imagination to a flat landscape; Even in the fluct-state of his quantum brain Fiery roses suffer loss or gain By tinct of joy or pain. I'll hold a butterfly 10 Hours maybe in the gleam of one eye; After hours fluttering I can no more decide Which of us first flew into the other's gleaming eye So sharp out of chaos can my I Concentrate when worlds collide. 15 So beautiful's my sung shape, Upright man or more sorrowing ape, Pursuing hot consciousness in a cold landscape All my song or self becomes all I've made or make Revivifying roses or lakes 20 When tongue gives and eye takes.
From the collection "Divine Revolt"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.