('To a green thought in a green shade')
When a dull dolt plays, as opposed to thinks,
colourless green ideas sleep furiously.
It happens all the time. Just ask a three-year old.
They know: the children with emerald eyes.
In their world, where the flight of chased breath
enwraps them in timeless glee and where boxes
open magic locks, sometimes toys don’t have
a missing you to put them back together.
It depends on which side of the sea and land
you drifted to in your travels – for you.
And sleep can sometimes be hard to fathom.
And you have to try really, really hard.
And sometimes get very, very angry
with yourself before you can float beyond
your parents’ jammed safety jib into a world
where the exquisite corpse will drink the new wine.
And the very idea has thin air.
And where mountains move and exquisite corpses
sleep furiously having drunk the new wine.
And where you dissolve into colorless green.
How exquisitely puddles evaporate
and pour into clouds and streams of dreams.