In The Airy Heavens Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Castles underneath the penumbras of waves:
Little school kids looking up into a bouquet of their graves:
Waves of fire, running like horses,
Like drinks in the single hands of lonely men going down,
While all of the dogs run their tracks all over town:
And Saturn sits alone:
Without any girls, breathless, hopeless: matchless gas in the
Oven-
Discovered in recess like the skeletons of a jobless knight
Underneath the windmills,
As other things move, as cats make their dance underneath
The mountains the priceless princes tried to mine:
Just to get your birthstone, to get your name from their
Throat:
Alma, Alma- and to try to birth your young like a match
Fluttering like a song bird across the ant mounds in the airy heavens.