John Forth Amory

Poem By OWEN I.A. ROCHE

Man's home by birth

is earth; twin Venus

is bare of air,

a silver sliver,

cloud-hidden, proud

in tantalizing fantasy.


Some day, across
the labyrynth of space,
the race of man will toss
algic seeds to leaven
the heaven of Venus,
sow air to breathe,
unsheathe the planet,
cover granite with moss.


Then Venus will bear grass,
fish, man, ass.

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