Sky High Ice.(Poem)

 
Sky High Ice 
 
        My friends 
      Say I have a light touch on 
   A tall ladder. Those winters kicking 
      Up frozen water in sheer streambeds in high country. 
        This is the same art, no? 
 
        I made 
      The ascent to the apex 
   Of their library, teetering like 
      A gyroscope, the ladder slung like a drunken mast 
        To four worn climbing ropes. 
 
        For what 
      Art? A witch ball, to string up 
   With fish-line to the uppermost reach, 
   ...