Polar air dries the night gowns of dismembered stars
As a shroud of distilled snow covers his lashes,
Dimming on cerulean light, where his pupils linger -
Hiding imperfections and haunted...desolated spaces
In his vision...growing... the alien sun defiles,
And the greed of his footsteps clutters next to Mars
Where the circlets in the revolutions grow like cannibalistic ripples
Joined in the unanomous soul stealing chorus
Of reflecting waters.
Desire-bitten lips stray on her name... sometimes
When the moon glows young and he remembers
The fading glimpses of the world that was awake –
Wild in the play of motions that conjured life.
He remembers... ...then he forgets.
Universes and the ideas, of a 'mind forever voyaging', of pictures interfering with the sounds of silence and visions of words, and rhetorical dilemmas of the mind, in a mixture of the Now and the Then, the infinite ice and forgetful fire ... where feelings collide with the unexpected nature of human reason and subjective delusions ... there, in an aquatically frozen wasteland, in different shades of blue, and one or two shades of pink, lies your poem.
I do not think the poet is 'living on land'. He's in the air alright, ... balancing in a cage, having so much as a glimpse of freedom's non-possibility.