Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

This drought of geologic terms,
but not emotional— A draught
of fury comely reaffirms
an out-of-placeness, mildly daft,

from which I gathered tenfold birds—
not big, not bright, but sparrow small—
and saddled each for flight (absurd’s
it sounds) upon my toes that all

my weight might weightless heaven rise
and twinkle eyes amid your stars
and cry till fury feeling flies
and waters Earth from distant Mars,

a red-eyed man too far away
to benefit. But parched— This drought
of geologic terms; and may
I free to feel to turn it out.