"The world looks level under my steel rims, crushed to bliss by God's giant green thumb which teems and redeems everything under its whirlwind whorl. We must ax out this cancer of Chance; the world 5 was built, I believe, and my book proves its true. A downtown D.A., I'll burn the palace down for the convicting clue. Professors are such soft, openended things, and besides, science is unproved. I saunter up with my bilged briefs from 10 the ribosome links of these stranger docks and penetrate the doilywork of the statistical city. Fly-eyed in the pulpit, I meditate on my haranguing lectures to the mass. The mass remains unmoved, pawing the ground. I don't know 15 what simmers inside myself! I don't know about that master fake-maker Darwin, revealing a world a blinded god had hidden, even from himself! His sideburns evolved from bad to worse. Maybe God made each mistake independently... 20 Our green genes shift and change like germs, our bodies diminish and age, shrink back to apes in smocks crooning in ape-ooohs around a glittering testtube. The people are finished with me, TVs off they return to the burning circle of their lives, 25 chanting gossip, politics, and news; but will they buy my book? I walk back to the docks. I love my life, my wife, my little ones I made in the image of God."
From the collection "Contemporaries"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.