Off to See the Wizard by Kevin Connelly

The arms of a clock, I move with my mind;
a line in quick sand, aloof, yet, aligned,
for harming a witch, the proof’s in the pine,
which lays on her spine: but is there a crime?
A cock on a roof, alarming, the time;
a farm is three clicks, a way in the wind,
I skip on gold bricks - the truth is divine:
I planned for this day; I waded the tide!
A pharmacist’s script is my kind of fruit;
strange as it may be, it’s juiced to the rind.
Too soft to withstand, I get to the root,
I’m off to this land where I am a finch!
I move to dismiss, on the grounds I’m cooped;
deranged, yes, crazy, awakened through pinch!