Thanks, Duncan, I've always loved this poem. I like your idea of it as a precursor to Martianism. Here's another of his which works by a startling shift in perspective (together with some well-judged Scottishisms, like "slounge"):
Basking Shark
To stub an oar on a rock where none should be
To have it rise with a slounge out of the sea
is a thing that happened once (too often) to me.
But not too often - though enough. I count as gain
That once I met, on a sea tin-tacked with rain,
that roomsized monster with a matchbox brain.
He displaced more than water. He shoggled me
Centuries back - this decadent townee
Shook on a wrong branch of his family tree.
Swish up the dirt and, when it settles, a spring
Is all the clearer. I saw me, in one fling,
emerging from the slime of everything.
So who's the monster? The thought made me grow pale
For twenty seconds while, sail after sail,
the tall fin slid away and then the tail.
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