And for a moment he truly sees
the vision gasping beyond his prayer.
What multifarious light of dawn
as seagulls snatch and lift up his eyes
like hosts on the altar of the world
to the insouciance of the Lord.
What paradise of blinded kittens,
what heaven of flotsam washed ashore,
and Gabriel radiant in the sun
amid an army of idiots—
before the vision finally fades,
and the orgiastic birds let go
in the dark chambers of flooded lungs,
leagues, leagues—bright eternities below…

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