The scenery of the ribs is a stage-set: medieval coils of veins, cracked flames and the abysmal bellows, 5 the gold heart going like pocket-watch, muffling a photoed face in its hands. Heart! O Heart! Look at the ruins you have maneuvered! the hothouse monster who smahes the panes 10 and leaves the scene in spasms. Mysteries stiffen the pinions of God's black bat, dark Lucifer, soiling the filigree panelling 15 as he loiters, fingering a silk cigarette. He's plausible, a skirmish of smokes and dishwater, lonely for a light or a toke.... A molten, mirrory backdrop 20 floats his eyes through the chest like train-lights; A few, stray, unused thoughts flashing and dangling assemble the scarecrow who puts goodness to flight.
From the collection "Naked Eloquence"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.