The world is beautiful with breezes, snakes
of grace, serpents of softness, which avid
steal from tree to tree. So green slumber wakes,
animated to indulgence, shy kid
of goatish luxury, by the quick bite
of teeth envenomed with air’s elixirs,
first, last and best poison, in malice slight,
yet most rich in invention’s rare mixtures.
Sin original is mind’s first motion,
art’s intent, which like some fallen rainbow
stirs the waters of harmony’s ocean
in search of the sign which has drowned below.
Eve’s green garden was Adam’s best delight.
Eden’s trance is everyman’s prime birthright