The Binge

He gulped the wine as if it were

A living beast to swallow whole:

Horn, hoof, and snout to feed the sly

Gargantuas in his soul.

How sweetly then the wild stars brayed,

And he, a donkey, roared in tune;

His ears went up to fan the void,

His feet limped on the moon.

The seas were spit compared to him,

And earth the dropping of a toad;

He swaggered down the purple night,

A five-foot, grinning god.

With pointed shoes and jaunty coat,

With eyes of blood and reeling sense,

He leaned against a mortal tree

And belched omnipotence.