In polite society
we’re rarely called upon
to show our heterogeneity -
that mixture in us of the dawn
.
and dead of night.
But today one sees that
as egregious oversight -
as if refusing to permit a bat
.
its craving for a ball.
We’re not a cosmic error
in our lust for the ungodly squall
of pleasure mixed with terror:
.
that is the condition
in which Glory's always born.
Passions which defeat volition
lend divinity to art, to life, to porn.
.
.
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