White ranges of mounting vapors, Silent train of suspended rain, cataract of**star-thickened night, Palace of oceans lofty sweat. Once I was a bird in thoughts grace, Regarding your gauzy valleys; The days when sleek fuselages Rumbled with steaming service trays. Admired whimsical force— Spinning tops erasing cities, The icy ammunition: hail; Teaching Mansions to ski off coasts. Earlier than the winged Wrights, Aerosol parasols did roam, Woolly as Mammoths without tusks Lay waters pearly Atlantis.
I actually like this one. It flows well, and you haven't forced it to rhyme. The last line seems out of place to me, but other than that it's good.
You create very powerful images. "cataract of star-thickened night" ... "Woolly as Mammoths without tusks" ... splendid lines! Those lines hold up well to Joni Mitchell's "bows and flows of angel hair", and even Shelley's "I am the daughter of Earth and Water/And the nursling of the Sky". Did you intend there to be some sort of conclusion? If you did, I didn't get it, I'm afraid. I think that would really give this poem a punch ... some ironic little kick at the end. I'm not saying that the elegance of language alone isn't enough to make a poem, but normally when I read poetry I want something for my trouble, you know?
