The champions of intelligent design
are often harping on about the eye
as the true example of perfection.

These squishy, jellied orbs have been denied
the champion’s slice of the compendium
of all the manifestations of light

from the electromagnetic spectrum,
and worse than that, the retina’s screwed in
the wrong way round and so part of this room

that you know as the world remains hidden
from our eyes’  ownership, just to the side,
just like the divide of the Golden Section.

No daughter, when our visual feeds collide
I don’t see ultimate intelligence,
I see a billion slight mistakes instead,

that made a jagged path to providence,
the smudgy, factory seal of “good enough…”
Your eyes don’t come from immortal agents,

they come from something clumsier, like love.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Aug 31, 2012 @ 00:13:45

    I read the science section and then waited for the metaphor and meaning. When it came, in the last two stanzas and the couplet, it was blindingly obvious and brilliant.


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