Who hears the thrill of tragic bells In pilfered light till all rings well Which once had wrecked wry Bhudda's pose And emptied inspired air of thrills? 5 Who soaks in rancid acid the bottom-bones of Hell Or scents the hunter's creeping wind with thrills As dangerous as a rose? Oh Five winds thrill through pilfered Hell 10 And scare up soaked souls to kill All the Bhudda's bottled wisdom That banged the rosy-rusted bells The live-long day, down in a dirty hole. The aloud sounding of the sea within me 15 Mouths marvels to the two stars of my eyes Rattles the rampart of ribs and surrounds the heart A molten soapstone of soul Shaped by sharp touch, yet enduring 20 A monument unbottled whose kitestring reels to earth
From the collection "Miscellany"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.