Clouds, Festivals and Sirens

They billow just above that far hill I think I see old Zeus peer out the piercing eyes ulotrichous beard hair a roiling wiry nest of whirls Father of the universe those Olympian palace trumpets bear It is the wind and such a wind those sirens crying shaping sounding Old Zeus is soon become in depth his invisible blue Such agitation! I cannot tell ground from above I sit on cool damp grass dizzy dizzy the wet-sense separates myself from on high Clouds festivals and sirens.... Debussy must have laid out on such hearing post horns in the chase the chase of clouds and sky Yes a stallion's head his flaring nostrils form And I am soon mounted riding wed Bodiless I dodge and call ahead "Afternoon!" transformed lifted off the meadow grass "Take me!" tossed among the fickle folds gaping A trip like this comes but once in mind's mystic shaping I hear the golden brass in perfect organ tones with sirens unite Earth passes 'neath my enchanted sight a festival of lights sun-clad in blue and white